#i hate everything that i have done to others

[darkbluekies]

A little game

Yandere!king oc x fem!reader

Summary: Edmund going insane when he finds you hurt and unconscious and swears to kill everyone in town.

Warnigns: behading, insanity, blood, guns, abuse, arson, everything like that

Word count: 2.3k

His eyes wander over your lifeless body. Numerous signs of brutal harm can be seen on your body. He can't even imagine what you've been put through, and when he tries he feels sick.

“Kill them all.”

His secretary widens his eyes.“But … your majesty-”

Edmund turns to him with eyes burning with rage. “Do I speak another language?!” he screams. “Kill them all! Every single one of them!”

Maids look at each other in fear, the secretary gulps. Edmund can feel his body tremble. He wants to grab the glass bottle on the bedside table, break it and plunge it deep into someone's, anyone's, heart. Wants to see blood, wants to kill. 

His hammering heart thumps in his ears. A chanting “kill them all, make them pay” repeats in his head, sounding better and better each time.

It all had happened so quickly, and yet so slow. You were kidnapped on a town visit and hurt by someone, badly. A knight had found you after hours of search lifeless in the forest, body torn and beaten. Edmund had thought that you had died. The few moments of uncertainty had felt like hours. Millions of thoughts had passed through his head. What would he do if you were dead? Could he live without you? Why did it hurt so much? Why couldn't he breathe? Was he dead too? Why was he alone again?

But now he was only angry. Someone had hurt you … and the entire town hid the truth, protected the culprit. Edmund didn't care who had done what, everyone was guilty. They are no individuals, only a herd of characterless peasants. And he hates them all.

He wants to touch your face, but he doesn’t dare to. He’s scared that if he touches you, he’s going to kill you. His touch is deadly. You’re already so fragile, so vulnerable. 

“Take families, one by one”, Edmund starts, still shaking, “and bring them here.”

“What are you going to do, your majesty?” the secretary asks, sounding worried. 

“Give this castle a fucking paintjob.”

His hands are bloody — they’re never bloody. He never gets down and dirty, always watched. His heart is beating even quicker, but he can’t seem to get enough. He can’t get rid of the unimaginable anger he feels. It’s like a beast has taken control over his mind and soul and given him a new unclenched blood thirst. Every time he lets his fist make contact with a poor peasants body he sees your broken face in front of him. It makes him hit them more, with even more force. He enjoys it, he finds. 

“Your majesty, please!” the man he’s holding begs. “Please spare me, I’m sorry!”

“What are you sorry for?” Edmund questions harshly. “What can your filthy little peasant heart be sorry for, huh? Was it you who abused my wife?!”

“No! No, your majesty, I didn’t-”

His voice echoes across the court yard. “Then who did?! Who was it?! Who are you covering up for?!”

Before he has the time to answer, Edmund has thrown the man against the castle’s wall with such force that he cracks his skull open on the harsh, sharp stones. Blood splatter. Edmund’s heavy breaths are enough to cause his head to spin. He runs a bloody hand through his black hair. Bodies are lined up against the castle’s walls, stacked on top of each other.

Edmund turns to the knights standing a few meters away from him. 

“If no one fesses up I will kill the entire town!” he shouts. “Every single one!”

“Your majesty, if you kill everyone, who will you rule over?” a knight asks. 

In a swift motion, Edmund grabs a gun from the nearest knight and shoots him. 

“Does anyone else have idiotic questions?!” he screams, directing the gun around. “Huh?! Ask them now so we can get them over with!”

To show that he’s not kidding, he shoots a bullet straight up into the air. None of the knights answer. Edmund scoffs and throws the gun to the side. He catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the window and flinches. He didn’t need his mirror to let him know that he’s drenched in blood and sweat. The look inn his eyes is what is startled by. He looks … animalistic. There’s no humanity left in his ice blue eyes anymore. He can feel himself drift into insanity, but he can’t stop it — maybe he doesn't want to.

“Bring the next group”, he demands.

“They are fleeing into the woods, your majesty”, a knight says. 

“Then stop them?!”

“How, your majesty?”

He thinks for a moment. Head spinning, heart thumping in his ears, tast of blood in his mouth. 

“Burn it all down”, he decides. “Burn every possible way out. Burn them in, if necessary.”

The knights nod. Edmund turns back to the poor body on the bloody gravel and picks him up by the collar, carrying him to the others. 

“Isn’t it pretty? The color?”

His secretary tilts his head as he studies the flames in the distance. “I suppose so, but the smell is God awful.”

“Smells like victory to me.”

Edmund turns away from the window, eyes darting to all the things scattered all over the floor. His office is near destroyed. Things lay broken everywhere after his tantrums. He used to value his materialistic obsessions highly, but now they’re not worth a dime to him. Nothing is. Only you. He has to avenge you rightfully. 

“How is my darling doing?” he asks and gives the secretary a stern gaze. “You know to tell me the second she awakes, right? If you don’t, I will drag you out on the court yard and put you with the other bodies.”

“Of course, your majesty, I will come running right away”, the secretary answers. “You can rest assure. I won’t betray you. Besides, her skin is healing. You won’t have to see her grotesque marks.”

Edmund nods. “I want to see her now. To see if you are telling the truth.”

The secretary leads Edmund through the large, dark halls. The people passing him makes his blood boil. They haven’t done anything, but he’s ready to lash out in case anyone gives him a foul look. Anyone showing any signs of distrust need to be killed. Roughly. He will not be made a fool.

A maid opens the door to your shared chamber and Edmund walks over to the bed. For a few seconds, he doesn’t believe that it’s you sleeping under the white sheets. You look so awfully small in the big bed, so unbelievably broken. Your skin looks so weird compared to the white sheets … washed out, somehow. He hates it, absolutely despises it all. 

Edmund sits down on the side of the bed and takes your hand in his, sighing heavily at the state of you. Seeing your frail figure makes him even madder. Why aren’t you waking up? What have that creature done to you to make you look like this? His secretary was right, however, you seem to be doing a bit better. Your body heals. So why aren’t you waking up?

“I will punish them”, he whispers and kisses your forehead. It must be one of the sweetest gestures he has done since you disappeared and came back in whatever state you are in now. “I promise. I love you so much, my darling, I will make them pay.”

The guillotine is working over time. The blade is covered in blood, heads everywhere. Edmund has realized that all people about to be beheaded has either of three possible reactions. Pleading and crying, begging for forgiveness, and emotionless and accepting. He likes to guess who will have what reaction, and when he guesses right he gives himself a clap on the shoulder. He’s standing on the balcony, leaning forward against the railing with his arms resting on it. Smiling. It’s all a big game for him. Like how hurting you and covering up the deed is a big joke to them. But now he’s the hunter, and they’re the pray. They are the punchline in his joke. Not the other way around. His blood boils when he thinks about what the ones hurting you must have been thinking while performing such a merciless act. Were they thinking about him, about how mad he would be? Thinking: “we will have caused a reaction to form in him but he will not know who have done it”, in that case they were wrong. Everyone is punished for their stupid game.

“Please, please!” a woman screams, about to be beheaded. “I know who it was!”

Edmund freezes. 

“Wait!” he shouts to the man holding the rope controlling the blade. 

Edmund hurries down to the court yard and walks over to the woman with her head in the locked hole. He grabs her chin roughly, trying to direct her head up without luck. 

“Who was it?” Edmund spits. “Tell me their names.”

She seems to have lost all speaking ability when nearby Edmund. All color is drained off her face. She faints. Angrily, Edmund lets go of her chin, grabs the rope and lets the blade fall. Her head falls down on the gravel and rolls towards the others. No one says anything.

“Your majesty!” he hears his secretary shout. “The queen is awake!”  

Edmund feels his entire body go numb. He spins around, looking at the secretary in the doorway with large, shocked eyes. He runs after. 

You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake.

“Get out of my fucking way!” Edmund growls and shoved a maid into the wall when she tries opening the door for him.  

You’re laying in the bed, but your eyes are open! Edmund runs over and throws himself at you, hugging you tightly. You start to cry the second he wraps his arms around you and brings your face into his shoulder. He can’t believe that he’s holding you again, to feel your body tremble under his fingertips. He wants to cry. 

“It’s okay”, he whispers and caresses your hair as you sob against his neck. “Everything is okay, my dear. I’m here now, I will not let anything happen to you.”

He can feel his entire body relax. He has you back. Your shaking body feels so … alive. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks. 

You nod against his shoulder and try to pull back, out of his embrace. He doesn’t let you, he only moves you closer. What if you slip away when he lets you go?

“Not yet”, he whispers. “Stay with me a bit longer.”

His hands grab at you, trying to reassure himself that you are, indeed, alive. 

When he does let you go, your eyes are red with tears. He puts his hand on your cheek, wiping your tears carefully with his thumb. 

“I’m so sorry”, he mumbles and feels a stone in his throat. “I really am.”

“Your hand smells like blood …”, you whisper.

He becomes cold as your eyes start to widen in fear.  

“No, no, no!” he says quickly and grabs your face in his hands. “I will stop. Is that what you want? Hm? I-I’ll stop, I’ll show mercy to the ones left if you just give me the name of who … who hurt you. Okay? Please?

The name you give is one he’s familiar with. It’s suddenly clear why everyone wanted to shield the guilty one. His father is one of the richest men in the town. Edmund has yet to kill him. 

“I will take care of him”, he says. “Everything he did to you, I will do to him. I promise. Not more, not less.”

Your shaking hand takes his. Edmund gulps and lifts your intertwined to his lips and kisses. 

“I love you”, he whispers. 

“What is that?” you ask and point towards the forest.”Why is it so black?”

Edmund hesitates and hugs your other hand tighter. They have cleaned the entire court yard and scrubbed the walls so that you won’t have to see any of the horror that has occurred while you were unconscious, but he can’t replace the forest with a new one.

“A wildfire happened while you were unconscious”, he lies. “It was just fixed. Nothing to worry about.”

He continues to walk with you, hand in hand, through the large corridors. He’s on his way down to the dungeon where a certain someone is waiting for him. Edmund’s hands itch when he thinks about what he’s going to do to him. He can’t wait. 

You suddenly hug him. He flinches, but is quick to wrap his arms around you, to secure you against his body. You fit so well against him 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Nothing”, you say, sounding shy. “Thank you for saving me. I think that I would be dead without you.”

“I would kill everyone in this world for you. You know that.”

But hearing you say ‘thank you’ to him, after everything hes done for — and towards — you causes his stomach to to fill with butterflies. He really would kill everyone for you. Over and over again. 

“I’ll have to leave you here”, he says as you reach the stairs down to the dungeon. “I have something to do. Will you wait for me here?”

“What are you going to do?” you ask hesitantly. 

Edmund smiles, showing off his teeth. “Play.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere stories #female reader #yandere king #yandere oneshot

[mysunshinetemptress]

Call Your Mom

Leah Williamson x reader

Warnings: talks of suicide please please know you are never alone

Tears streamed down your face, blurring the already distorted image in the mirror. It had been years since the suffocating darkness of suicidal thoughts had threatened to consume her. Back then, Leah had been your anchor, your lighthouse guiding you back to the shore. But lately, with the weight of the loan to Manchester City pressing down on you, a familiar coldness had begun to seep back in. The vibrant colours of your recent success with Man City seemed to have drained away, replaced by a suffocating grey.

you had convinced yourself it was just the stress of the new environment, a temporary blip. But tonight, the blip had morphed into a monstrous wave threatening to pull you under. The once vibrant colours of your apartment seemed muted, the silence deafening. The thought of reaching out to Leah, of tarnishing the happiness you'd built together, felt unbearable.

But as the racing thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last, the fear became a raw, primal instinct.  Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring the digital clock on the nightstand. 3:12 am. Shame burned in your gut. How could she be feeling this way again, after all, Leah had done to pull her back from the brink .

 Leah's voice, even thick with sleep, was a lifeline.

You fumbled for your phone, the familiar warmth of the screen offering a flicker of comfort. Leah's name on the contact list taunted you. Reaching out felt like a betrayal, a regression. Yet, the darkness whispered terrifying thoughts, a relentless chorus you couldn't seem to silence.

With a shaky hand, you hit call. One ring. Two. Three. Just as you considered hanging up, Leah's drowsy voice filled the silence, even thick with sleep,  it was a lifeline.

"Y/n? Everything alright?"

You sucked in a breath unable to answer.

"Baby? Hey, what's wrong?" Leah's concern, though muffled by distance, sliced through the fog of despair. Shame threatened to choke you, but the words tumbled out, ragged and desperate. Leah listened patiently, her voice a soothing balm even across the miles.

"Stay on the phone, babe. I'm on my way."

You choked out a protest. "No, Le, it's too late, you..."

"Don't argue," Leah interrupted gently. "Four hours. I'll be there."

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the phone that was deafening. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears leaking past your lashes. "Le? Are....Are you still there?" you croaked, your voice thick with despair.

"Always," came Leah's unwavering reply, even through the static of the phone call. "Don't you even think about hanging up."

You knew Leah could hear the tremor in your voice, the raw vulnerability that sliced through years of carefully constructed walls. The move to Manchester had felt like a fresh start, a chance to prove yourself on a bigger stage away from the stacked bench of Arsenal. But the pressure had become a suffocating weight, and the initial excitement had morphed into a suffocating loneliness.

"It's stupid," You mumbled beginning to pick at the skin around your fingernails, hating the pathetic sound of your own voice. "I thought I was past this. But it just…it hit me tonight."

The four-hour drive was an agonizing eternity for both of you. You paced the apartment restlessly, the phone pressed tight to your ear, the silence punctuated by Leah's gentle reassurances and the rhythmic hum of the engine in the background.

The guilt gnawed at You as you began to feel guilty for calling Leah so late. "Leah, you don't have to do this," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "It's just me being a mess.....I'll.....I'll get over it."

"No," Leah's voice came resolute through the speaker. "This isn't just you. You're not alone in this, i'm not letting you do this alone not tonight not ever."

The dam broke then. You confessed everything - the creeping despair, the fear of disappointing your Mom,  god your mom was the only one you had growing up and the only child to a single parent, she had sacrificed everything for you and now here you were wanting to end the life she had given you, the life she had sacrificed so so much for."Oh my god Le, My Mom I don't...I can't" Leah listened without judgment, her unwavering support a beacon in the storm.

"She'd be disappointed," You mumbled, "that I'm not... stronger."

You choked back a sob. the thought of dragging Leah into it was unbearable, of your Mom "I can't let Mom know," you whispered, your voice tight with fear. "She thinks I'm… I'm better now. She'd be so disappointed.....Le she...she gave up everything and I...oh god...I just want to through it all away." Leah didn't know what to do.

"Y/n," Leah said, her voice firm, "being strong doesn't mean bottling things up. It means reaching out for help when you need it. We'll face this together, okay?"

You shook your head unable to answer.

Leah sighed, the sound travelling through the phone line. "Your mom would want you to be happy and healthy, Y/n. She would understand you can't keep this bottled up it won't help. I'll call her, I'll explain everything and I already know she will be so proud you called me instead of struggling alone ok, so hold on and I'll call your mom ?"

The suggestion hung in the air. The thought of facing your mother's concern, of potentially shattering the fragile image of your recovery, terrified you. But the alternative - the terrifying chasm of despair that had threatened to engulf you - was even scarier.

Taking a shaky breath, You finally conceded. "Please," You whispered, the first flicker of hope igniting in your chest. "Please can you call her?"

Leah sighed in relief sipping in "Of course baby, as soon as I get to you I'll call her ok?" You let out a hum letting Leah know you heard her.

Through the night, Leah's voice became a lifeline. You talked for hours, about everything and nothing, about the weather in Manchester, Leah's upcoming game, and the silly things you both used to laugh about back in your younger days. With each passing minute, the frantic edge in your voice softened. The dawn broke just as you finished reminiscing about a particularly chaotic prank you'd pulled on a teammate in your youth.

Exhausted but with a fragile sense of calm settling over you, you looked at the phone screen. Leah's location showed she was somewhere near Birmingham now.

"Leah," You began, a nervous tremor in your voice, "you really don't have to come all this way."

"Nonsense," Leah interrupted, her voice full of determination. "I wouldn't be anywhere else. I told you we'll face this together, okay?"

By the time Leah arrived, the first rays of dawn were painting the sky a soft pink. Relief washed over you as you pulled Leah tightly into a hug, the familiar scent of your girlfriend a potent reminder of the love and support that still surrounded you.

"We'll get through this together," Leah whispered, her arms wrapped securely around You, slightly scared to let you go. "Come on let's get you to bed and then I'll call your mom," she added, her voice firm.

#woso #awfc #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x y/n #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #call your mom #noah kahan

[scatterbrainedbot]

redraw of one of my very first tmnt drawings!!

had meant to do it exactly the one year later mark, but i blinked and suddenly april was may was june -- so ended up being more like a year and 1.5 months lol

May 11th, 2024 vs. April 6th, 2023

its so funny seeing them nest to each other now, but i remember when i finished the first version last year, i was so proud to have finally made a proper 'finished' piece.

like, yall, i struggled for years to every be able to create a piece i would ever call close to 'done'. part of that is me being a very knit-picky kinda person, and wanted to continue to tweak everything all of the time forever, but on top of that i also do work slow af, and before last year i didnt really have access to any digital media. and i love traditional mediums, but im defintiely not practiced enough to be able to get the results i was looking for with any sort of speed. like im genuinely not sure i created a single 'finished' work in my life -- not in school, not in work, not even in the free space of silly fandom doodles.

and then this piece happened!

and i knew even then that it was messy and rough af, but it had a background!! and color!! sure, the linework wasnt polished at all but still, for a silly little fanart? it was defined enough to distinguish the separate characters, and read expressions! there was even a little tiny bit of lighting!! i hate lighting!!

seeing the two versions side by side honestly i kinda have to laugh at how Rough the first version looks now. but you know what. im still so so proud of it. the colors are muddy, theres no shift in value; their clothing designs arent at all defined, leos teeth look weird af and theres lines on caseys face that are definitely from me accidentally dragging my fingers across the tablet when i didnt mean to but like. its there! its finished! i did it!

idk. ive never had a piece ive ever wanted to hang on my own fridge before. :)

#disappears off tumblr for like two months #im alive i swear #my art #human tmnt #rottmnt #redraw #did the old one in early April of 2023 and this new version May 11th 2024 #(and then promptly forgot to post it for like a month) #i genuinely didnt think my art had changed that much this past year #besides just getting more comfortable with the digital media #but im actually really really pleased and kinda proud with the improvements! #understanding values and composition esp #always struggled with having characters feel like they actually existed in the same space #and werent just stiff seperate drawings that happened to be next to each other #and color and lighting have always been enemy number one #still definitely cannot begin to say i 'understand' them #but im starting to be able to fake it better #:)

[poppy-metal]

fail marriage au…………………….

having your first big blow out fight after marriage counselling. putting everything you ever found aggravating or disrespectful or wrong or even just a bit annoying on the table. art doing exactly the same. it gets mean. it gets personal. it gets ugly. you scream at him, scream like a banshee and he shouts back. veins you didn’t know he had bulge in his neck, his fingers flex as he wildly gesticulates. you throw something, a plastic tv remote that shatters against the wall. it all passes in a heated blur, you hardly know what you’re doing or saying but that blood is pumping through your veins and you’re alive and so is art. alive. furious, at you. you stalk up to him, and he stands tall above you, looming like a storm cloud. a sweet faced angelic storm cloud that right at this second you couldn’t fucking stand. you jab at his chest with your finger as you yell, lay into him. why couldn’t he tell you how he feels? why did he have to be so fucking passive aggressive? why was tashi the centre of his fucking universe? why couldn’t he be a fucking man and tell you what he really wants? be a man art. be a fucking man for once in your goddamn life.

his nostrils flare, his anger rising with every poke. he grabs your wrist, yanks it up and leans in close. stooping, showing you that he is bigger. he would stoop to your level. he will fight back. you feel his breath on your nose and seethe. he’s still minty fresh. stupid cunt.

“what i want is for you to shut the fuck up and stop acting like you know everything.”

“fuck off, you limp dicked sack of shit.”

“fuck you cunt.” he flicks those brutal syllables at you, chewing his words, opening his mouth so you can see his tongue forming them. you feel the severity in the pit of your stomach. you feel something else lower.

“fuck me? fuck you!”

and in that moment you drew together, moving as one, in the most violent kiss of the modern age. he squeezes your wrist, still held aloft. your other hand grips his shirt collar, pulling so hard it hurts his neck. good. you hope his delicate little neck gets a friction burn and a rash and you hope it stings forever. he tongues furiously at your mouth, mashing his lips into yours and licking the side of your mouth. eating your face like he eats pussy. which he hasn’t done in a while, another thing to yell at him about later. his other hand grips the back of your head, holding it still so you have no choice but to recieve his hot, angry love. you kiss back with equal fury. you want to make him suffer your love. don’t want it? tough luck. it’s his. and he will take it. he grunts into your mouth, it vibrates your tongue. you pull back, but he doesn’t let you. he forces you back nearer to him, spine curving in hateful ecstasy. he kisses you for a few more seconds before drawing back only a few centimetres to rest his forehead on yours and breathe. your lips are wet with him.

“i love you,” you breath.

he caresses the back of your head.

“prove it.”

me when i overachieve.

anyway this is apart of my failmarriage au and you should probably read this part first to understand whats going on here. or just follow the #failmarriage au tag that i have.

your breath shudders out of you. you'd never heard that tone from him before, or rather, never directed at you. not exactly cold but, chilled. serious and pointed. dominant.

your hands fall from his hair, sliding down his throat, his shoulders. you stare into his eyes - he stares back. you feel like you're on a razor thin wire. concede or push back.

you wonder what this will fix. but you don't think you care. you want him. you miss him. your heart is pounding just thinking about it. you take a step back, two, three, several paces.

"okay," you say. you dont even know what you're agreeing too, just that you want it, whatever it is.

before you even have time to linger on that thought though -

because art is already stalking towards you, undoing his soft leather belt and letting it drop to the floor. you couldn’t move. you couldn’t breathe. just watching in this kind of stupified silence as art unczips his pants and slides his delicate fingers under his waistband. In three strides, art was right up in your space, owning it,  staring you down with a cool kind of control in his eyes, heavy cock in his hand, already hard and flushed and mouthwateringly beautiful. you couldn’t speak. you couldn’t think. all you could see was art. 

when art spoke, his voice was an iron grip closing around your throat. each word as clear and distinct as a brand to your hot skin.

“get on your knees”

you sink to the floor. It felt like falling, your knees knocked out from under you by the invisible string of his command that binds you to him. breath punches out of your lungs as you let yourself go under. art was already reaching out and grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock past your waiting lips, pushing all the way to the hilt as his leaking head slammed into the back of your throat.

“god,” art breathed out, vice grip holding you in place. “You’re beautiful like this” and you were lost. years of built resentment and anxiety dissipating like smoke as art took over your senses. the taste of him, the smell of him, the warmth of him, the silk soft press of his cock down your throat. It was everything you’d been longing for from him. 

your hands fly up to grip art’s waist, fingers trying to find purchase, pressing him deeper, holding him deeper, worried he might pull out but not able to hold yourself back. when art didn’t say anything, didn't tell you to stop, you sank forward and started to suck greedily, tongue running over art’s throbbing length, trying desperately to take him apart, to please him, to worship him, to give him what he wanted. 

you heard yourself whine, felt your body sway forward, but you managed to hold yourself still, keep your tongue flat, keep your mouth wide and waiting, holding art still against the back of your throat, wanting desperately to prove you were good. that you loved him. That you wanted, wanted, wanted him.

"give me your hand,” art breathes, looking down at you, and you think briefly of the ancient greek god apollo, and how if art was a deity, you.d gladly stay right where you are. lovingly holding him in the back of your throat. 

your mind was already starting to go fuzzy with the heavy weight of art on the back of your tongue, salt slowly leaking from his pink slit, the slow stretch of his your lips around art’s shaft starting to ache in your jaw. , but, still you had enough awareness to look up confused, meeting art’s eyes in a question. but art didn’t offer an explanation. just looked down at you, hand held out, patiently waiting, like it wasn’t a question of whether you would obey; it was just a matter of when.

shakily, your hand reaches out to his. by instinct or by pure coincidence, its the hand with your wedding band on it. your fingers brush against each other, and then arts fingers, lithe and strong, an athlete's fingers, slide between yours. he brings your clasped hands together against his chest. if your throat wasn’t stuffed with cock you’d gasp at the gesture, the intimacy of it alone. your palm against his bare chest, his right pectoral. right over his thunderous heartbeat. his wedding band presses against yours. 

“Im gonna move, okay?” he breathes down at you, and his hand squeezes yours. “If you want me to stop just squeeze my hand two times.”

you nodded, a slight movement, eager and unbidden. art ran a finger under your jaw, fluttering his fingers against you. you had to shuffle a little to keep as much of art in your mouth as you could as he exhaled and used his free hand to slide against the back of your skull, cupping it tenderly.

a little punched-out gasp falls from arts lips as he slowly rocked his hips, pushingas deep as he could go as you moaned around him. art took a second, waited for you to look at him, blink the tears from your eyes, before he started the slow glide out of your mouth. you laid your tongue flat against the underside of him, tracing the veins, unable to move forward to chase him back down your throat as arts hand kept you firmly in place.

when he was all the way out, spit slick and gleaming, he rested the flushed head of himself against your bottom lip. rubbed himself there, traced every contour of your mouth with the slit of his cock. glossing your lips with the sheen of his precum. 

“I love you.” he said - voice choked and you couldnt tell if it was from emotion or lust, maybe a combination of the two. 

you felt something flare hot in your belly, but before you could utter a word, art was sliding back home, right back into the silk pallet of your throat. and you welcomed him greedily, lapping up every inch he gave you. 

the whole while you held his hand, still pressed against his chest. you tilted open your jaw as wide as it could go, imagining you wanted to be a snake and swallow him whole. you took everything. you breathed through your nose when he was settled fully inside you - you sucked around him when he began to pull back, suctioning your mouth around him to mimic a pussy. a tight hole.

arent i such a good wife, you thought. no one could take his cock like you could. no one would drop to their knees and let themselves be used this way, but you would. to you, this was love. this was passion. 

art lasted a few more minutes before he was dragging himself free from the warm hug of your throat -

“I want you spread out on the kitchen counter," art panted, jerking his chin. he reached down to wrap a loose hand around his wet cock, stroking it languidly. your throat ached with missing it. “I need to be inside you. I want to -” he swallows. “I want to fuck you."

you inhaled sharply. it was a word you didn't often hear from arts lips. especially in reference to sex. the crude word coming from him made your belly clench warmly. more, you wanted more of that.

you stared at each other for what felt like forever but was probably only a couple seconds, art’s cock still only inches from your face. you watched transfixed as art’s leaking head slipped between the tight circle of his fingers, flushed tip disappearing and pushing back through. It was filthy, it was gorgeous, and your whole body shuddered imagining what it would feel like at your entrance: the slow press, the slick head, the aching burn as it slowly pushed inside. because it would burn. the last time you’d had sex….. you didnt want to think about it.

Instead you hurriedly scrambled to obey. shoving the straps of your dress down as you went, feeling it pool around your waist as you bent against the cool marble of the counter. you’d never fucked here. suddenly that was a crazy thought to you. wasnt it a kind of ritual for a couple - to christen the house? your fingers curled into your palms as you pressed your bare chest down. 

you felt art come up behind you and your breath hitched when you felt his palms skimming up the backs of your thighs. you hadnt realized you’d been trembling until that moment. something about his touch calmed you though. 

ridiculous,  to be shy when this was your husband. he’d seen your cunt a hundred times.

all thoughts fled your head when those familiar fingers parted the lips of your cunt - finding you wet. “baby” art’s strangled voice reached your ears as he felt through your delicate slit - he sounded beside himself with wonder. that you,d be this wet for him. this ready. he slid two fingers in easily - just a slight pressure at your entrance and there was a give of the flesh. and he was in - inside you. pumping steadily. “that’s it,” a kiss at the base of your spine, soft and special. “let me in. give me whats mine.”

yours, you dont know if you breathed it or just echoed it in your head. hips pushing back into him, opening yourself further. the stretch was full but it felt so right. 

“god - you’re so responsive - how could i forget -” he was working himself up. his thumb nudged your clit, circled it with the pad before pressing down on it, his own goran covering up your keen. like it affected him more than it did you, to feel how you throbbed against him with need. “gonna put my tongue on your clit everyday and you’re going to let me. let me worship what i married, spread your legs and fucking take it-”

“oh god,” you’re whining. practically humping your cunt on his fingers. “whatever you want, baby. take it, its all yours.” 

you clench around nothing when he suddenly yanks his fingers free, but you dont have to mourn the loss long, your empty spasming hole feeling the silken pressure of his cock in the next second. he grips your waist, wholly possessive as he drags you back onto him and, oh. Its so blissful. that tender ache in your cunt as its filled to the brim. You’d-

“fuck - i missed this - missed your pussy -” 

yes, yes missed. you’d missed this.

art adjusts himself. spreads out his legs so he can really move, leans his broad chest over your back, covering you, smothering you, squishing you into the countertop but he doesnt care. you dont care. pinned beneath him and speared open like this - you’ve never felt more loved by him. 

“so tight and warm - god - i never wanna leave -” he watches, pink lips parted where you’ve taken him. the flared open lips of your pussy hugging the base of his cock. a groan rips from his chest, loud, because he wants you to know, really fucking know, how overwhelmed he is, how much you make him feel, as he slowly drags himself out - only able to make it halfway before he has to bury himself back into that tight heat. your walls tighten and squeeze around him in these luxurious pulls and he feels spit pool in his mouth, the sensation enough to empty his brain. he rocks there, barely pulling free from the clutch of your body. 

“treat me so well with this - little cunt - “ wet desperate kisses are pressed wherever he can reach, his mouth hungry for the salt of your skin. he pulls it between his teeth, some raw animal part of him just wanting to naw on you. he rubs his forehead against your shoulders as he starts to move his hips faster. finally pulling out all the way before he slams back in, knocking your hips into the hard marble, and he should say sorry, he should take more care, you’ll be bruised surely, but then his mind flits back to your therapy session - at the words you’d both said - how you felt - and the words exchanged in your fight. and he feels something kindle in his chest, sparked to life by the liquid heat pouring through him - you fucking - you’re so cruel sometimes and you dont even know - you dont even see what you’re doing to him, the power you hold, how much he’d give to you if only you’d fucking open up to him. get angry at him. demand more of what you want instead of fucking expecting him to read your goddamn mind. 

he hadn’t felt the wet grip of his wifes pussy in months until just now. that couldn’t happen again. 

he pulls himself to his full height - using his ringed hand to make a makeshift leash of your hair, wrapping it around his tan fist. anchors you back onto his hard dick again and again in hard punishing pulls that seem to punch moans from you.

“this is how i should have treated you from the beginning, huh? come home every day and bend you over the minute i step through the door. pound out all my frustrations on this tight cunt. use you to masturbate my dick.” he grunts - that viseral fury that’d you’d seen spark in him briefly before was back in full force now. you could feel it in the reverberating clap of his balls against your ass. the forceful grip on your hair, yanking your neck back, nearly pulling your chest off the counter, your tits bouncing. “maybe then you’d appreciate me.”

you dont know what part in you is broken that soaks his cock at his treatment instead of clamping up. his anger, his vitriol, it all speaks to a deep part inside of you that screams to be wanted. you whimper and bear down around him, meeting him instead of shying away. 

“g - od - oh god, art - “

“would that make you my happy little wife?” he slows back down. drags his thick length in and out of you in purposeful rolls of his hips. “I bring all my shit to you and you devote this hot little pussy to warming my dick. you’ll take care of me, right? drop to your knees and give me a proper fucking welcome home.”

you cant think. your eyes are rolling back, your brain fogging. Its so good, oh god, how is it so fucking good. you’re drenched between your thighs, you can feel it running down your thighs. you can feel the hot raw part of your pussy that is being penetrated again and again on his cock as it retreats and then glides back in. 

“Im gonna cum.” is all you can say. “art, im so close -”

“fuck,” he stops his movements. grinding his hips into yours, churning his dick inside you. his mouth skims your ear, he lets go of your hair to grip you around the throat. “tell me you love me. tell me you love me when you cum, baby, or i swear to god, i cant do this anymore -” 

“I love you!” the words are the truest they’ve ever been in years. you’re on your tippy toes, squirming, trying to get away or trying to get closer, you cant tell. probably closer. you want art to carve apart for himself inside you - brand himself on you forever so you can never leave, never forget, never doubt this marriage. “I love you, i love you, i love you, i love-”

“I love you too. fuck - i need you to cum. cum on my cock and show me you still want this -” 

you shatter apart. a million stars exploding in a galaxy. arts strong arms come around you like a band, wrapping you up against him as you shake. your breaths come out harshly in sync. the beats of your heart a fast thrum between you. 

you turn your head, desperately seeking, and he’s there, already leaning down to take your lips in a kiss. 

the weight of him still inside you is one you take comfort in. you dont want him to leave your body. you dont want this to end. 

“stay,” you whisper against his mouth. 

his hand cups your cheek, strokes his thumb over the swell of your flushed skin. “always,” he says back. 

#ask #poppy fic #frens <3 #LMAO THIS TOOK ME HOURS AND ITS NOT EVEN 3K #wipes sweat from forehead #failmarriage au #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers x reader #challengers smut

[darnell-la]

dom mean billy x dom gentle sweet eddie x sub reader punishment smut.

at one point eddie is hesitant telling billy not be mad. Lots of praise degradation. Maybe at one point reader head is resting on eddies lap and he’s cooing her wiping her tears telling her ‘it’s okay, be a good girl for billy’

word count: 3.6k

warning: slight cnc (reader allows any and everything to happen), slapping, heavy choking, heavy cussing, face grabbing, hair pulling, begging, orgasms, creampie, face fucking, rough sex, etc.

note: in this story, Billy is a mean partner, but not as mean as we could’ve written him. don’t worry, he’ll be sweet by the end of his mission. the reader is also a bit toxic and confusing. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE CNC RELATED WRITING.

WE DO NOT ALLOW COPIES OF OUR STORIES!

————————————————————————

3rd person pov

Y/n is currently at a party her “partners” told her not to go to. She loves the two long-haired men, but toxicity is what started the relationship and they’ve only been talking for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months.

Being in a toxic relationship is not exactly what y/n planned. Especially with two people, but something happened, and she went along with it.

Now she’s at a party she knows she’s not supposed to be at, but she can’t help it. She likes seeing them upset, knowing if they were to ever make her upset, her heart would crumble, because why don’t they care about her feelings?

“Didn’t think I’d see you tonight,” a familiar voice said behind y/n, making her turn around with a smile on her face. “Well surprise,” she smiled with her pretty teeth.

“Where are you, you know, guard dogs,” Jason said, not knowing what they are to her and what he should call them, but he has an idea of what they claim her as.

“Don’t know, and don’t care,” she said then took a sip from her drink. “Hm — So you’re here alone tonight? What a bummer,” Jason took a look at her lips, watching how glazed they got from the alcohol she had just drank.

“Yeah, such a bummer,” she sarcastically rolled her eyes before laughing with him. The only time y/n and Jason talk is at parties. Flirting it teaming up drinking games is all that they’ve done, but Billy and Eddie are convinced they’ll do more if they hang out too much.

Billy and Eddie had just walked through the doors of the party they didn’t want to go to for obvious reasons, but they were forced after they came to their girlfriend’s dorm and realized she was gone.

They knew exactly where she had gone, and Billy quickly imagined the things she could’ve been doing alone, and if he saw anything he didn’t like, he warned Eddie he wasn’t going to leave there without y/n knowing to never go back again.

Eddie on the other hand is pissed too, probably just as much as Billy, but one of them has to be more calm about it, otherwise this night really wouldn’t go well for y/n.

“Split up and look for her. I hate this big rich prick house,” Billy said before walking off and going straight to the kitchen, knowing she usually drinks when she comes to parties.

Eddie took a breath before looking around patiently. It didn’t take long for him to see her laughing and giggling with Jason Carver.

“Goddamnit,” Eddie cussed as he made his way over to him. He’s pissed because he knew she’d end up talking to him and he specifically told her not to, and he knows for a fact of Billy sees this, he’ll flip shit.

“Y/n, let’s go,” Eddie wrapped his large hand around Y/n’s wrist and tugged. She moved a few inches until Jason came around and pushed Eddie off of him.

“Hey!” Y/n said, not liking the at Jason always gets physical with him. “Relax, sweetheart. Don’t touch her like that you freak,” Jason said, making Eddie chuckle at the old name.

“You don’t mean shit to me anymore, Carver, so I advise you to leave me and especially my girlfriend alone,” Eddie said, making people look our way. People have never heard it until now. He’s finally confirmed it.

“What? I’m not your girlfriend?” Y/n said, boiling Eddie’s blood already. How could she say that in front of all these people? In front of Jason.

“Y/n, don’t fuck with me right now. Let’s go,” he motioned for her to come with him, but she didn’t move. “Thinks she wants to stay with us, don’t you sweetheart?” Jason asked as he backed up and snaked his hands around Y/n’s waist.

“I-I have to go, Jason. Thank you for the drinks,” Y/n pulled away from Jason slowly with a slight smile. “Ah, c’mon, baby. Just stay,” Jason softly grabbed her hand, but she knew Jason.

He could either want her to stay to make Eddie jealous, to make Billy jealous, to get Chrissy jealous, or to get in Y/n’s pants, but she knows he wouldn’t actually want to be with her. Yeah, she’s sweet, but he’s still too worried about his reputation.

“I gotta go,” she said as she slowly pulled away then turned around and walked towards Eddie. Eddie quickly gripped y/n’s upper arm in anger. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” he said as he pulled y/n through the huge house to find a bathroom or the stairs.

“Let’s just go,” Y/n said, not wanting to be here anymore since the fun is over. “Oh, you’re not gonna get out of this shit that easy,” Eddie pulled y/n up the stairs, not caring if she was tripping.

“Eds, we can’t just walk through people’s houses like this,” she said as he checked every room, looking for a specific room for them both.

“You think I give a fuck about this dipshits house!? God, you’re so fuckin’ slow,” Eddie said as he finally found Jason's room. It’s never hard to tell what’s his and what isn’t.

“Eddie, this is Jason’s room!” Y/n said as she was pushed into the room. “And how do you know that?” Eddie asked, looking through her soul after he closed the door. Y/n stayed silent, not wanting to piss him off even more tonight.

“On the bed,” Eddie demanded, and for some reason, she went as quickly as possible. She didn’t see it, but Eddie smirked with a chuckle, knowing she’d always be submissive.

“Good girl. Maybe I will take it easy,” Eddie said as he took his jacket off, looking at his beautiful but bratty girl. “Just wished you’d stay that way for me, but you’re full of so many fucking surprised,” Eddie said with a forced smile.

“I-I’m sorry,” y/n spoke, making Eddie feel bad already. “Fuck,” Eddie said under his breath as he turned around and covered his face. He tried being upset and angry with her, but she’s just too sweet.

“I really am, Eds. I’m sorry I embarrassed you downstairs. I-I won’t do it again,” y/n stayed still on the bed, seeing Eddie’s body movement. She doesn’t know if he’s going to explode or forgive her.

“You can’t just walk around in the public and act free. This is why we don’t want you out. If Billy saw you before I did, you wouldn’t be in this position right now. Especially after you let that shithead call you sweetheart and baby in front of my face. Those are my words for you. No one else,” Eddie said now in front of y/n.

“You need to think more, baby,” Eddie softly grabbed y/n’s cheek. “I-I’m sorry,” she said again causing him to nod his head. “I know you are, but you can’t always get let off. I-I don’t want to hurt you or force you but you can’t just- You can’t do this shit and get away with it,” Eddie said.

“And I’m not breaking up with you, so the only option is you change or punish you until you learn, but I can’t always do that. Billy will,” he said as y/n moved off of the bed slowly.

“I’m sorry,” she said for the third time as she slowly went to her knees. “I know,” Eddie rubbed her cheek as she slowly tugged on his belt and jeans until she pulled him out.

Y/n wasted no time to take him in her mouth. “Augh,” he groaned as he threw his head back and pushed y/n further into him as he bucked his hips. He’s always so easy to pleasure.

“You’re just so good to me,” Eddie said with his eyes shut tight, feeling her tongue wrap around his tip every time she sucks up and then goes back down until she couldn’t take any more of him.

“So fuckin’ good,” he said. Y/n looked up at him, seeing his head still laid back and his mouth parted. She knew she had him right where she liked him. It always makes her think, should she let this relationship happen? Should she finally commit?

Eddie groaned at the speed change and her touch around his hips, moving him at a paste she wanted. Her gags were heard more and the head became sloppy, just how Eddie liked it.

She knew he was enjoying it by the way he moaned and his hips bucked. He was already twitching in her mouth.

“Just like that,” Eddie rubbed his face with both of his hands again, not believing he kept letting this happen. He hates complaining about it though because he loves it. He loves the way she sucks him up with those eyes he’s not even looking at right now. That’s how good she treats him.

“Got me close. Fuck,” Eddie said, finally looking down at her, watching his cock move in and out of her thick and soft lips. “Never lettin’ you go,” Eddie said as y/n hummed on his cock.

“Shit,” Eddie bucked, not wanting to cum yet but couldn’t hold back. Y/n sucked a bit harder, focusing more on the tip to suck him dry. She always wants it all in her mouth. No leftovers.

“Are you fucking serious!? You’re tooo her upstairs so she can suck your cock? She fuckin’ disobeyed us and you couldn’t at least fuck her face!? You just let her suck you on her own paste!?” Billy’s angry voice came through the door until he was standing next to the both of them.

“Dude, relax. Not everything has to be rough,” Eddie said as he softly pulled y/n to her feet. “Well, that depends on what she did. Did you fuck anyone tonight?” Billy asked, getting straight to it.

“No, what the fuck!?” Y/n said, upset that he always thinks she’ll open her legs for people. “Oh sure you fuckin’ didn’t,” Billy said with a chuckle. “Kiss? Dance?” He asked, hoping to get her on one of those, but what he didn’t know was that she was going to piss him off with something else.

“No Billy, but since you’re always in my business, I did talk, joke, and laugh with Jason,” y/n said with crossed arms. “Jason Carver?” Billy asked in a serious tone, not too loud and not too quiet.

“Yeah, and I had fun. So what I talked to him, that shouldn’t matter to you because we’re not officially!” Y/n yelled at him, making Eddie back up. He already knew she fucked up.

In a split second, Billy gripped y/n’s neck and forced her back on the bed until he was hovered over her kicking, slapping and yelling body.

“You’re gonna rub that shit in my face and think I won’t do shit about it!?” Billy yelled in her face as a little bit of spit splashed on her. “Get off,” y/n tried saying in a serious tone, but that didn’t work with him.

“You think ima get off, knowing you’d let any other dude her slip right into you pussy if the only thing they had to do was talk to you!?” Billy yelled the last few words, tightening his grip on her neck.

“At least they deserve it,” y/n said, not knowing what she was saying. Eddie knew she was just throwing words out there, but Billy? Billy couldn’t focus on that. He was truly angry.

“Oh, so now I don’t deserve you? All the days and nights I’ve fucked you and rocked your pretty little world, you wanna tell me I don’t deserve you?” Billy genuinely asked.

“Oh oh, but Jason does? Jason fuckin’ Carver does!?” Billy asked before laughing to himself. “You know what’s fucking sad, y/n? Do you!?” Billy waited for an answer. “What?” She plainly asked, trying to act like his grip was getting to her.

“If I were to go to any bitch here, you’d be upset. If I simply looked at Carol, Heather, or anyone else, you’d cry. You’d cry like a pathetic little bitch, but it’s okay for you to go after people we specifically don’t like? That’s sad,” Billy said.

Billy never knew what he wanted from y/n. Before he put her in her place, he always hoped for an answer to why she did this, but at the same time, he didn’t care, because whether she liked it or not, she belonged to him.

“Whatever,” a tear rolled down y/n’s cheek at the scenarios he gave. Eddie knows she’s sensitive when they mention their being with other women but Billy keeps talking about it.

Even though he’s not saying he’s going to do it and he’s just telling her how ignorant and selfish she gets, Eddie still finds it harsh.

“C’mon man, let’s just relax and let this one go. She’s already crying,” Eddie said. “Only if she promises to be right. Just be right, and we can be happy. It’s not that hard!” Billy said, but y/n’s always been stuck up.

She wants to be official, she’s always wanted to, but she’s afraid at times. She could say yes and have no regrets later, but because Billy’s threatening her, she refuses.

She’s always trying to out-dominate Billy, but that’s impossible. There’s no way she’s getting out of this situation untouched and unfucked.

“Get off of me. I’m going home,” Y/n said, moving her body to get off of the bed, but that triggered him. He’s had enough for tonight. “Goddamnit,” Eddie sighed with his head thrown back, knowing she fucked the night up for herself.

Billy harshly pulled y/n’s dress up before ripping her lace panties clean off of her. “Hey! I said I’m going home!” Y/n shouted, slapping at his arms, but that never pleased him.

Billy continued until he pulled himself out of his jeans. “Let’s see how demanding you are with a cock up your cunt,” Billy said before slipping into y/n so easily that it hurt at how deep he got in the first thrust.

“God, Billy,” Eddie felt bad as he watched y/n’s words get caught in her mouth. “Gonna keep talkin’ to Carver after this, huh? Huh!?” Billy slammed his hips into y/n as she cried in pain but so much pleasure.

She’s always been the type to hide it, but by the time she couldn’t hold it anymore, she would be too fucked out to tell him how much she loves him or Eddie.

“I didn’t think so,” Billy used his free hand to grab y/n’s face and squeeze until she whined. “Keepin’ those moans in will fuck you over by the end of the night, so I suggest you open your fucking mouth now,” Billy growled.

“B-Billy,” y/n seemed so lost in words that she didn’t know what to say to him. She can’t act like she doesn’t like this. She’s always loved the way Billy treated her. She loves it rough.

“Go a little easy on her, man. She's falling apart,” Eddie said, feeling bad for her, but he couldn't ignore the rock in his pants. He never can.

“Oh, shit the hell up, Munson. Don’t act like you wouldn’t fuck her just like this if she wants so submissive to you,” Billy grew angry at Eddie for always telling him to relax or take it easy.

“No, you wouldn’t take it easy. No one would. No one would take it easy on a slur like you,” Billy leaned forward to get a closer look at y/n who’s currently mind-fucked.

“No one soul. All they do is think about abusing your cunt like some fuck toy or some whore in the street. You need to be more grateful for us, baby. Needa understand that if it wasn’t for you, you’d be some worn-out slut for parties like these,” Billy said, stinging y/n but she loves it.

“You already whore for us. Open your legs so fuckin’ easy and cum in seconds. You really think I don’t notice how wet you are when I plunge into your cunt, y/n? I always fuckin’ notice. Always notice how easy you are for me,” Billy leaned down in the crook of y/n’s neck as he pushed deeper into her, making her scratch her shoulders and back.

“I’m gonna cum,” y/n said low and shrieky. “Ah uh, I didn’t say you can cum. You haven’t been a good girl. You don’t get to fuckin’ cum,” Billy said, thrusting a bit faster to be a dick as always.

“C-Can’t hold it,” she cried, tears streaming from her eyes. “You’re gonna fuckin’ hold it, y/n, because I tell you what. If you don’t, ima gonna fuck you so fuckin’ hard,” Billy moved both of his hands to connect to her neck, pulling her into his hard and harsh thrusts.

“She’s not gonna be able to hold it, Billy, just pull out or let her cum, man,” Eddie said as he got on the bed, seeing how he could comfort y/n in this situation but it’s hard to when she’s basically crying and grinding up against Billy.

“O-Off, off!” Y/n tried pushing Billy away, but he didn’t budge. Billy gave a few slaps to her face, telling her to stop fighting. “Take it, slut. Take my damn cock like the cock drunk whore you are,” Billy spat harsh words out as her body went stiff.

“Augh!” Y/n moaned loudly as her feet kicked the bed. “That’s it, keep cummin’ so I can punish you some more,” Billy whispered with an evil smile that Eddie saw plastered all over his face.

Eddie knew this wasn’t getting good for y/n, so he went under her and rested her head in his lap.

“S-Stop! Stop!” Y/n second orgasm washed over her so quickly she couldn’t even process the first. “You shut the fuck up,” Billy slapped a hand over her mouth with his one hand still gripping her neck.

Y/n reached an arm back on Eddie’s clothes, holding them tightly as he stroked the side of her forehead to calm her as Billy took what he wanted.

“Just relax, baby. He’s close. Take it for a little while longer,” Eddie whispered to her as her eyes rolled back and her vision seemed to get bad.

Billy’s groan began to sound wild. You’d think his anger would have calmed down by now, but he feels like he could go another few rounds.

“It’s okay, be a good girl for Billy,” Eddie heard a yelp from y/n as Billy dug his nails into y/n’s neck to force her moans out.

Eddie wanted to push Billy off but didn’t know for what reason. Was it to help y/n rest for a few minutes, or was it to take his turn from the hard-on he got again.

“Just cum again, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’ll help you,” Eddie said before leaning over to rub at y/n’s sensitive clit. “N-No! No more!” Y/n begged before Billy got the chance to bring his weight down on her mouth.

“Yes, you can, baby. You want Billy to stop right?” Eddie asked, long into the poor and horny girl's eyes as he wiped at her years. She didn’t nod or say anything as she got lost in his eyes, but he knew what she wanted.

“Then cum, baby. I know you want to. You can give us at least one more. Just one. Wanna taste you, baby,” Eddie said before seeing y/n’s eyes roll back once again.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Eddie rubbed faster. “So good for us,” Billy groaned as his cock twitched. “Yes, she is. So fuckin’ good,” Eddie praised as her body shook uncontrollably.

“Gonna pump you full then make you talk to Jason and tell him what a slut you are for us. Shit, you’ll even show him how full you are,” Billy said, meaning every word he said.

Y/n mined at the thought of Billy and Eddie wanting to claim her this bad.

“Mhm, fuck yes. Fuck yes, baby, suck me in. Suck me back in, baby, fuck!” Billy slammed into y/n a few harsh times before hurting himself deep into her as he spilled into her.

“You’re always a good little fuck for me. Don’t need anyone else havin’ this lucky cunt,” Billy said as he pulled out with a groan, watching the way her walls tried pulling him back.

“Fuck,” Eddie said under his breath. “So pretty,” Eddie softly rubbed over her whole cunt. Billy finally got off of y/n, allowing her to breathe so much better and let out her whines.

“C'mon, baby. I wasn’t even that rough,” Billy said, feeling like he took it way easier than he planned. “Dude,” Eddie said before they both laughed.

“It’s okay — She’s a good girl and took it so well, didn’t you, baby?” Billy asked as he leaned towards her face, seeing how fucked out her eyes are. “So well,” Billy said before leaning in for a kiss.

Y/n whined in between her kisses, desperately trying to taste him, but it was hard. Everything felt hard to do right now.

“I like the idea of going down to Jason and showing him how much you belong to us, but I don’t want anyone else seeing how pretty this princess is,” Eddie said, softly slapping at y/n’s pussy, making her cry in pleasure.

“So how about you tell Jason you want him to take you to his room so he can see the mess you made. Then you can lay on his bed with us next to you, and spread that pretty pussy for his rich prick eyes,” Eddie said, wanting to hurt Jason as much as possible.

Billy pulled back and looked down at y/n, waiting for her answer. “O-Okay,” she said, not caring about how shitty that would be of her. She wants to make her partners happy and obey for once.

“Atta girl,” Eddie rubbed y/n’s cheek as she caught her breath so she could make it downstairs and not tip over from his good Billy rocked her world.

#billy hargove smut #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #dark!billy hargrove #dom!billy hargrove #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #dark!eddie munson #dom!eddie munson #stranger things s5 #stranger things smut #stranger things #smut #rough kink #roughfuck #rough cnc #18+ #18+ content #18+ fic #18+ minors dni #18+ only #18+ post

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for acting apathetic about my chickens?

(CW for animal death/animal attacks)

I (14F) have had chickens my whole life. We usually have around 15~ at a time, and we get chicks that we raise around every 2 years. They live in my backyard, and me and my dad mainly take responsibility over them. I love chickens in general, but mine especially because I helped raise them. For a while, the chickens + my cats were my only friends. I just think they are neat.

Anyways, one big part of owning chickens is recognizing that sometimes they die. When the chicken is lucky, it lives 5+ years and passes from old age. Sadly, not all chickens are lucky. It is a garentee with having a flock of chickens that at least one will get eaten or attacked. If you have chicks, eventually you will end up with one that hatched sickly and it will die too. This definitely isn't a part of having chickens I like, but it's the truth.

I was talking with my brother (18m) about chickens recently and he brought up the time one of our chickens got snatched and eaten by a fox. He asked me if there was anything more we could do to prevent that from happening again, and I told him no, we've done everything we can. He then told me he hated that fox, and asked me if I did too, which once again I said no. More specifically, I told him that "I think it's sad, but obviously the fox was hungry. At least it got fed." My brother got flabbergasted, asking how I could say that. We had a bit of an argument on if that was an appropriate comment to make, where I ended up saying more or less the exact contents of the second paragraph. Now, my brother is insisting I don't care about the chickens and am heartless for thinking about them like that.

I disagree with him. I think you can acknowledge that death is a real possibility and still dislike death, and being realistic about bad things that can happen is important. I care a lot about my chickens. When they die, I dig a hole and bury them someplace pretty, and I always recite a prayer to them. They all have names, but truthfully I do forget them. I dig up worms for them as snacks, I hang up cabbages like piñatas for them to play with. They are safe, and I don't think being accepting about the fact they may die makes me bad.

Personally, I don't think there's an asshole here, but my brother does and I'm not completely sure. I would also like to add that I am autistic so other people struggle with reading my emotions, so my brother probably has good reason to think I don't care. I hope I wrote this written ok!

#aita #am i the asshole #pet death cw

[citrusbatsandhoneybees]

Like What You See?

Lucifer X Fem! Pornstar! Reader SMUT

A/N: God I'm finally done with this! I've been so excited to share this! Hadddd to try to write my own getting caught fic after reading and getting inspired by @heart-of-the-morningstar's Behind (Not So) Closed Doors fic, (If you haven't read it obviously go read it right now) and maybe I've got another idea for another one. Tehee~ I LOVED writing this, and I hope you like it!

Synopsis: Reader used to be a pornstar, and Lucifer gets caught watching one of your films.

Content Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Heavy Smut, mentions of porn, masturbation, voyeurism, teasing, edging, oral (m receiving) and fingering.

Word Count: 7K

Divider Source: cafekitsune

You used to be an actor for Valentino. You quite enjoyed doing those long films, and they started to gain a lot of traction. However, after a while, Valentino had tried pushing you towards doing shorter films that didn’t have any plot outside of the erotic parts, and you refused, effectively showing him that you no longer had any worth to him. When you first arrived Hazbin Hotel you were quite literally at your lowest; losing your only job since arriving in Hell and having been kicked to the curb. However, since getting there it has done nothing but good for you. You have gained a new home, safety, and a small community to be a part of, so you’ve done everything you could to be helpful to its’ cause.

Quickly Lucifer had caught sight of this, and you were able to form a valuable comradery between the two of you in your efforts to help Charlie. Almost instantly the two of you clicked, from being able to share similar senses of humor and a mutual hate towards Alastor the bond you formed made the two of you stronger. However, you never really spoke of your past with the King of Hell. You were scared that it may put him off, or disgust him, and he would no longer want to be friends with you. You knew how he used to feel for sinners, and you didn’t want to give him any reason to hate you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Charlie were up early that morning making breakfast together for the other residents of the hotel. Cheerful music played and flowed through out the kitchen as the two of you hummed and worked at a steady rhythm together filling the area with an aroma of sweet, fluffy pancakes and scrambled, seasoned eggs. A small smile formed on your face as you looked towards the princess who was hard at work. 

“Do you think we should make some bacon too?” 

Charlie’s warm humming finished, and her long blonde hair flipped to the side, as she turned to look back and answer you. 

“OOooh! If you’re finished that would be great!” 

With a small nod, you made sure to push all of the yellow fluffy eggs to separate dish as you worked on placing the strips onto the hot pan. The meat sizzled and popped within the grease that pooled below. By the time the food was officially cooked, a few of the others had joined the two of you in the kitchen, and started to make their own plates, eating happily at the dining table and island that the vibrant room held. For the others that hadn’t arrived, like Husk and Lucifer, you joined the princess in setting nice trays to bring up to their other rooms. Then for a final touch you placed a small glass vase on each of the trays with a small set of flowers that Charlie had brought inside. Abruptly, after the two of you finished, a rush of dark green smoke enclosed the trays, and pulled them away to the doors of the respective residents. 

After feeling the chilling magic send the food away, you glance over to Alastor who gave you a bone-rattling grin and turned back away to eat your own breakfast with your friends. You decided to take a seat next to your old work friend, who sent you a much warmer smile, and settled your fingers around some silverware to pick up bites of the pancakes you helped make. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

While everyone was eating together Lucifer was hard at work in his workshop putting together a specialized, custom rubber duck. He had spent several days on this, creating different prototypes, but never was fully satisfied with the result. He wanted, no needed, for this one to be perfect so that he could present it to you. Maybe then he could have some confidence to finally ask you out. He had been tiptoeing around the idea for a while now, but it never seemed like the right moment for him. Of course, he worried that you would reject him, how couldn’t he be?

While he continued his tinkering the king turned on some background noise to accompany him. Lucifer wouldn't normally watch or enjoy television because he believes it scrambles the brain, but during his stay at the hotel he has astutely learned that using current technology is a sure-fire way to piss off the radio demon, so naturally he invested in one for his room. He was grateful for it too because it was able to help him tune out any wandering thoughts, totally not about you, that normally invaded his mind during the noiseless hours. 

Quiet clicks sounded from underneath his hand as he screwed together a small piece to place inside of the little rubber gift, but before he could finish with the piece Lucifer whipped his head around to the abrupt sound of knocks that resonated throughout his room. 

“Char Char?”

He called towards the door but didn’t get an answer. The blonde groaned lightly as he stood from his work bench and stretched out, rolling away the strain his muscles had from his sitting position. Satisfied after a few stretches, he started his trek towards the door. Lucifer barely noticed, but the television shifted to another movie after the previous finished as he walked past. Once he placed his hand on his golden doorknob, he turned it to open and revealed a mahogany tray with a couple plates full of a nutritious breakfast, a tall glass of apple juice, and a small glass vase with a set of orchids. Then next to it was a small bottle of golden syrup and a folded note. On the note was a wish good morning with small hearts drawn to it, in your handwriting. A small smile painted its way across his face as he looked over the tray. Slowly Lucifer bent over to grab the little slip of paper, and traced his thumb over the ink as he stood back up. She's so sweet. His heart warmed as he looked it over and reignited his motivation to finish his small gift. 

Inspired to get back to work, Lucifer was quick to bend over once again and pick up the tray you and Charlie set up for him, however he was interrupted by the echo of a familiar voice. Before he could identify who it was, he turned his head to look through the hallway, to no avail. Then he heard it again, a little clearer now, he recognized that it was coming from behind him, and Lucifer turned back towards his room. Calling towards the room, he searched for the source and soon inferred that it was your own. Leaving the door to close behind him, he turned his head towards the large television that stood over a grand dresser, and soon his jaw dropped. On the screen held an image of you in elegant clothing, arguing with some other sinner that you were with. He froze, mouth remaining slack, and eyes widened as he watched the film. The script seemed quite cheesy and dramatic, but he had never seen you like this, and he especially didn’t know that you had been involved in recording a film, and a lead at that. Once the initial surprise weared away, he took a few steps away towards a bed that stood across the television and sat, watching the movie closely. 

He remained entranced and engaged with the film as it continued. Lucifer was mesmerized with your acting as your character involved herself in more and more romantic activities with the character that filled the role of being your “love interest”. He couldn’t believe or understand why you had held this away from him. You were good, really good. Lucifer continued to watch as the two main characters were put in a room together, only to realize that there was only one bed to share. He chuckled lightly to himself at the predictable nature of it all as he leaned his head against his hand. However, after a few more moments, he wasn’t able to keep such a comfortable position. The scene had quickly shifted towards something more pornographic. His eyes widened once again, and he roughly wrapped his hand around his mouth as loud moans flooded past your lips from the love interest’s touch. 

He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised that the film had took this turn, it was hell after all, but his body tensed as he watched your hands wander down the other actor’s chest and before he could stop it, rapidly his own mind wandered on and imagined how your touch would feel on himself.

“Shit shit shit…” 

 Logic told him that he shouldn’t watch any further, especially since you hadn’t even told him about this, and he was about to leap towards the remote until he saw the camera zoomed in towards you and your passionate touch, causing only more torture for the poor devil. His face flushed, and it wasn’t too long until his hardened arousal started to pull his attention towards it. He felt small twitches under his boxers after every exaggerated moan that the speakers poured out, and soon he felt the absent-minded need to buck his hips for any friction that he could get. 

“Fuckkkkk..” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You remained content in the kitchen, sitting close to your friends, and slowly eating the food off your plate as you made small conversation. You laughed lightly as you watched Angel continue to tease another sinner from across the table throughout the meal, and after you finished the last few bites of your fluffy eggs you took the opportunity to help Charlie. Taking your dishes and a few plates from the others that had finished before you, you made your way across the kitchen to the large steel sink. You easily rinsed off any of the remains that were left behind, before filling the vessel with hot soapy water and starting your task of scrubbing away anything that you may have missed. 

The princess was quick to take her place next to you, grabbing a small towel, drying off the ceramics, and putting them away. It was a successful meal that the two of you started together and now cleaning away together. Soon some of the others brought over their plates and left the kitchen after giving the two of you a thanks. Then, Angel Dust was the last one to walk over. 

“Thanks toots, delicious as always.” 

You gave the spider demon a smile and a nod as you continue scrubbing with the yellow sponge, not expecting anything more out of the conversation. 

“Short king never came down, disappointed?” 

Of course. He nudged you with his elbow as small flush ran across your face. The actor never hesitated to tease you about your relationship with Lucifer; you rolled your eyes towards the demon, and lightly gestured towards the princess as you looked back at him. Hoping the knowledge of her being there would shut him up.

“What are you trying to say?” 

Angel Dust looked you up and down and raised his brows in response with a smug smirk laid across his face. He hummed lightly, waiting patiently as Charlie finally took a few steps away to put away some of the dishes she had dried. 

“You should go up there, finally make a move toots.. Alone~” 

This again? A small scoff escaped you, and you turned your head to look over to the spider as you set a clean cup to the side. You caught sight of his wiggling eyebrows and let out a small laugh. 

“Angel, you know I won’t” 

He shook his head and rested one of his hands on his hip. He was getting tired of this song and dance between the two of you. 

“And why not?” 

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him before you returned to your task, explaining your reasoning once again.

“First off, I don’t think he feels that way.” 

Before Angel could interrupt you, you speak a little louder and look back at him as you continue. 

“Second! I don’t know if he would like me if he knew what I used to do. What if he finds out and he’s disgusted?” 

A light laugh runs out of the actor, and he rests one of his elbows onto your shoulder as he leans down against you. 

“Sweet cheeks you were hot in those films, 10/10, if he saw them, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.” 

Before you could respond, Charlie spoke up brightly from behind you. You didn’t even realize she was back to dry more dishes. 

“Whatcha guys talking about?” 

You whipped your head around to respond frantically, but the arachnid beat you to it.

“Oh, I was just tellin her she should go check on your dad.”

You wanted to send the spider demon a glare, but Charlie looked over to you with a glittering grin. 

“Oh, that’s a great idea! He’s probably working on something, and you know how he can get tunnel visioned when he works on something!” 

Charlie giggles lightly thinking over her father’s small quirk, as she looks over to you. 

“I don’t want to leave you to clean everything Charlie.” 

You retorted, trying to escape the spider demon’s incessant setup. You wouldn’t hear the end of it if you went up there. 

“Oh, don’t worry toots, I can help her!” 

Charlie looked over to Angel with practically sparkling eyes, and then back to you insisting that you should go. Heavy drops of frustration started to fill you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to back out. 

“Okay! but I’ll be back with his dishes, okay?” 

You gave the two of them a reminder of the tray that you helped set up for him this morning and stepped away to dry off your hands. You shoved the wet sponge towards your old work friend and started to walk out of the kitchen. Your last view of the two in the kitchen was Charlie back to being hard at work, and Angel Dust using two of his limbs to make an erotic gesture, and one other to make a phone next to his ear. You flipped him off as you made your way out and started your trek to the elevator. 

As you arrived at his floor, you stepped through the engraved elevator doors, and walked towards his suite at the other end of the hall. It wasn’t too long before you were in front of his door. The mahogany tray was still there, left abandoned and now cold to your dismay. You worried over Lucifer. Had he really been that distracted with his project to not answer his door? You just hoped that was the issue, and he wasn’t spiraling again. You started to speak as you twisted the gold encrusted doorknob open. 

“Lucifer! You missed your breakfast, are yo-?”

As you slipped the door open, a mixture of moans started to pour past the large crack. You froze until you had heard a recorded line. 

“YY-yeah useee mee~”

Is that?? Your heart started to rapidly pound against your chest as you realized that Lucifer could have been watching a rerun of one of your films. Shame pulled your heart strings. You pushed open the door, tray still in hand, and words were ready to fumble past your lips to try to explain yourself. A small click sounded behind you as the door shut behind you, and your jaw dropped at the sight. You looked towards the television to reaffirm your thoughts, then back at Lucifer. Fuck he's gorgeous. He laid against his mattress unabashedly pumping his member, as his head leaned against his headboard. The pretty sight caused a strong heat to swiftly pool within you, and your thighs quivered with anticipation. You felt a strong fiery magnetic pull force you to take a step towards further, and before you even realized the heavy tray you held had tipped forward in your lack of attention towards it. 

—--------------------------

Before you even arrived at his door, Lucifer groaned down at his predicament, and looked back towards the screen to see a large image of your cheek pressed against the others sinner’s cock. His eyes bulged at the sight, and his body grew more desperate for relief. His teeth clamped down onto his bottom lip as he worked through the choice whether or not to relieve himself or not, and quickly decided to go against his better judgment for it. The blonde huffs, pushing his pants and boxers down and away to quickly rid himself of this issue. Lucifer revealed his desperate standing member, that already had started leaking precum running down his length, leaving it slick and ravenous for friction.

He grunted as he felt the cool air against him and wrapped his hand around it. Lucifer started slow strokes up and down the whole of his length. His head leaned back, hitting the top of his headboard, as he continued the slow pace. Lewd noises from the film flooded his ears, as his mind ran through images of you: your tongue running up the side of cock, wrapping your pretty lips around him, and taking him fully down your throat as you did on the screen in front of him. Then to other images: pushing himself deep inside of you, making you scream his name, and screaming your own in return. Eventually low groans started to leave his throat as he started to quicken his pace, and his eyes fell shut. As Lucifer started to rapidly rush down the course of an orgasm, his free hand gripped the sheets next to him, and low repeated whimpers of your name slid off his lips like a prayer. 

Just as he found himself on the edge, a loud crash and shatter reverberated around his room. Panic rushed his veins, as he abruptly ripped his hand away from his length to hastily jerk up a blanket up and across his body. Lucifer then looked towards the source of his interruption and saw you. Shame, overwhelming shame, filled him as he saw you. What was he thinking!? There was no hiding the humiliation he felt. You stood just inside of his door, breakfast tray slightly tipped forward and your eyes rapidly switched between him and the television on his wall. Lucifer worried that you would scream at him, and rid your relationship with him all together, but instead the quick realization of the mess you had created had you setting the tray down. He watched in shock as you got on your knees to attempt to clean the spilled apple juice, and shattered vase. As you were about to grab the first piece of glass, he snapped his fingers, poofing any of the messy evidence away. You looked back up at him and watched him as countless apologies started to fumble its way out of his throat. 

His glossy eyes stared over to you as you approach his bed to sit on the edge, feeling the overwhelming warmth cover your face as you look over towards him. 

“I- it’s okay… I mean that’s what it’s for.” 

Slightly unsure of yourself, you crawl a little closer to the man, and he backs up until his back hits flush against his headboard. Lucifer remained ashamed of his actions but grew slightly confused as he watched you get closer, getting more aroused by your actions. You stopped crawling, your weight now falling onto your knees once you were close, sitting in front of him. 

“And you’re not grossed out?”

“What? No?” 

You asked as you looked over to him, with worrisome eyes, and Lucifer looked back at you with concern and a large bundle of confusion. He shook his head feverishly and waved his hands. Why would he be grossed out? You should be the one that was repulsed by him. He yearned to move forward and comfort you but stayed like stone in his spot, as to not make you uncomfortable. His answer was enough to push away some of your insecurities as you continued. 

“Is that what you want?”

You gestured towards the screen that continued to play, now on a scene of you riding the love interest of the film. Lucifer gulped slightly as his eyes turned back to the television, feeling his cock sinfully twitch once again in anticipation from the film. Then he turned his head back to you, who stared back at him wantonly. 

“N-not exactly…” 

Were you assuming wrong?? A small panic raced through you, and stuttered your actions, but allowed him to continue. He saw the panic in your eyes. Realizing his fuck up, he continued to fumble through his stuttered words. 

“Wait! No, no no no n-no! What I mean is.. I.. I want you.. I need you.”

He emphasized his last words as he leaned forward towards you. Your own heart stutters from his statement and pushed your thighs together slightly as you allowed your hand to move up and brush off some of the sweat that collected across his brow. Then you gently held his face, tracing his cheek with your thumb as you met his softened eyes with your own. 

“I need you too.”

His lip trembled slightly from your words, and he pushed himself forward off his hands. Then a small smile pulled at your lips, as you met him in the middle to press your soft lips against his. Your heart continued to pound hard against your chest as your lips met. Feeling the euphoria of finally being in the moment you wished for so long. The first kiss was gentle and slow, as you continued to trace gentle circles across his cheek. Lucifer chased after your touch for a moment as you pulled away to look at him, and he looked into your eyes. His own woozy smile graced his blushed face after the shared high of your first kiss and after you laughed lightly at his expression. Once you pushed away the pieces of blonde hair that had fallen out of place, you moved forward to kiss him once again. 

Soon your lips pressed further against his, and the pace picked up to a more feverish one. Taking initiative, you opened your mouth a little to allow passage for your tongue to brush against his bottom lip. He almost too hastily opened his mouth to match yours and you started to massage your tongue against his skinnier split one. He melts further into your touch, proving himself to be like puddy in your hands. A smirk spreads across your face as an idea hits you, and with a slow hand you place your fingers onto the edge of the blanket he hastily threw over himself to bring it down. Lucifer pulled his face away from yours, and his breath broke into heavy, hot pants as he wipes away the saliva that connected the two of you. 

“Y-you don’t have to!” 

Lucifer stares into your eyes, worried that the two of you were advancing further than you were more comfortable with. You bit your bottom lip, grateful for his kindness, as you reassure him. 

“I want to help you finish your movie, Luci. Would you like that?” 

Your voice carried a seductive edge, and Lucifer swallowed hard while nodding eagerly in response. With a small giggle, you returned to slowly removing the blanket from him. He clenches the sheets beside him in anticipation and bites his lip down hard. The ravenous look you held had him feeling desperate for your touch. As you finally pulled the covering past his waist, you got an up-close view of his hardened arousal. It stood tall, leaning against his stomach, practically quivering, anxious for more. You quickly threw the cover away as you stared down at the sight. The pure white member was slick with large amounts of his precum, and the head’s color was a pretty pink contrasting from the rest of him. Pushing past the thoughts of pouncing on him right there, you looked back up at him as you tugged his shirt lightly. He helped your efforts and practically ripped off his shirt as you pulled his pants past his hooves to leave them abandoned on the ground away from you. 

Breathlessly you looked his body over, admiring his pale white skin that was warm to the touch. He truly was Heaven’s prettiest angel. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Your hand traced his chest and stomach as you whispered. He picked up on your compliment and if he could blush more, he felt it. Lucifer watched you as you looked back towards the film, and realized you were just on time for the next scene. Your lips pulled to a tight-lined smirk as you moved to sit on your knees to his side, and he looked over to you slightly confused. 

“If you need me to stop, tell me, okay?”

Lucifer nodded towards you at your request, but the king hadn’t completely comprehended what you had suggested earlier, not quite understanding why you were at his side now. Amused, you laugh lightly and grasp his chin to lead his sight back towards the screen. Leaning in close, he felt your hot breath against the shell of his ear. 

“The movie, pretty boy.” 

You cooed, and he quickly put the points together. Realizing the teasing he was probably about to endure he bit back a whimper and stared back at the screen. The television displayed an exaggerated scene. The camera zoomed in showing only you as you started to grind against the other actor. Your moans streamed out the speakers, helping you overwhelm his senses. His cock twitched against his stomach, and luckily for him your hand gently wrapped around him. Lucifer felt a fleeting sense of relief as you touched him, and you started to press small pecks against the lid of his ear. You prompted leisurely pumping him at a slow pace, aiming to pull any pleasure out of him you could, as you continued your sweet affection across his ear and down his neck. Continuous translucent pearls ran past his slit, sliding down his head. A grin grew across your face at the sight, as you rubbed the slick precum up and down his member. 

It was pure torture for him to only watch this fake version of you, and agony to keep his hands to his side. You continued your cruel pace up and down, and Lucifer writhed and moaned from your strokes. You eagerly continued to fulfill your incessant need to pull more of these precious sounds, and luckily for him you allowed his hip movements, but you kept stopping those in mind for the future. Lucifer started to plead between his desperate gasps and moans. 

“Please.. p-please faster.”

You obliged and picked up the pace to keep a quick momentum. Your small pecks changed to more exchanges between open mouths kisses and small bites against his chin and neck. His own breath picked up and grew more ragged as he clenched his eyes, focusing on the waves of pleasure. Noticing this, you lectured him with a teasing tone. 

“Ah. Ah… Luciii~ the movie?” 

Lucifer whimpered, and obediently forced his eyes open to watch the film. His jaw fell, and remained open as continuous moans left his throat. His legs quivered, and his hips bucked up into your grasp as he felt a tight thread start to rapidly coil within him. 

“Fuck FUUuck, Yes!  I- I’m gonna-!” 

As Lucifer started to rolling towards the edge, you ripped your hand away from his member. A loud whine escaped from him as he continued rutting his hips up searching for the friction that was taken away from him. Before he could complain, you explained your cruel punishment. 

“You’re not even close to the end yet Lu~.” 

He turned his head to look back at you. Lucifer had been pulled away from two orgasms now. Sweat soaked his skin, his cheeks flushed, and drool colored with a hint of golden blood ran past his lips leaving a glimmering line down his chin. His desperate expression forced a tingling heat started to pool within you, and you felt your own panties slick beneath you from your arousal. 

“Can’t you at least finish this scene for me?” 

Lucifer hesitantly agreed, nodding toward you and reluctantly turned his eyes back towards the film. His body tensed lightly as he prepared himself for what was next. A mischievous grin twisted your lips upwards, as you wrapped your fingers around him once again. You returned to the pace that you left off with, and he choked back his breath from the brutal swift pace. He begged out to you, whimpering out your name as he writhed under your touch. Ironically, he wanted to pray for release.

“What…? I thought you wanted me to go fast Luci~?” 

The next few minutes felt like hours, as the scene continued on. It was truly addicting for you watching the painful pleasure you brought him with simple strokes, feeling your own body slick and wanting for more. 

Lucifer never asked you to stop, so you edged him on and on, pulling away if you needed to keep him from releasing until you recognized that the pornographic scene was close to the finish. Enthusiastically, you prepared yourself to finally fulfill his wish. Keeping your strokes steady, he watched with surprise as you moved your place back in front of the man and gave him a warm smile as you leaned forward to lick his weeping head. The new sensation had Lucifer’s head reeling as he absent-mindedly bucked his hips forward. As you continued, you hallowed your cheeks, and wrapped your perfect wet lips around him, taking him fully down your throat. Lucifer practically saw stars as his cock was engulfed down your throat. Your eyes gazed up at him, as you practiced your skill, tracing your tongue up and down the side of him as you pushed your head up and down at a steady pace. 

“S-so so so perfect.. F-feels soo good!"

Lucifer’s eyes stayed fixated on you as you used your freehand to lead his own to your hair. He eagerly took the opportunity and wrapped his fingers through your hair pulling it as softly as he could in his predicament. Quickly the familiar feeling of the thread coil tightens, and you were able to understand him instantly as he pleaded with you once again. Though this time, you gave him your acceptance with a small nod, and not a second later he was seeing stars. 

“Ahhh fuck! Th-thank thank you thank you!”

His glazed over eyes clamped and he clenched his teeth as his head hit his headboard. Lucifer felt his mind stop as shockwaves of rippling pleasure ripped its way through him. His body jerked up from underneath you, and you kept your lips wrapped tightly around the tip as you gave him slow strokes to help him through his orgasm. You swallowed the thick spurts of his seed that leapt out of him, making sure to collect everything before you pull yourself off of him. He watched eagerly as you licked your lips and took in the addicting sweet taste of his angelic cum. Wiping away any of the left-over fluid across your chin, you made your way over back to his side and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You cooed, whispering sweet things into his ear, as you held his hand, and rubbing your thumb gently over his knuckles. 

Once he was finally able to form a full thought, a wobbly smile formed across his face as he leaned his weight onto you. He took in a deep breath before pulling your knuckles to his lips to place a gentle kiss to the surface. A small sigh escaped from you from his soft touch, and you looked over to view his tiresome glow. After a few moments, a light tug of concern pulled at your heart, as you worried about the small possibility that you may have gone too far for a first time. 

“It wasn’t too much was it?”

He rigorously shook his head before he turned his body fully to look into your eyes. 

“No… no! you were perfect hun.” 

You matched his gaze, and the tender affection that radiated off his expression gripped your heart. He traced gentle shapes on your knee and moved forward to press his lips lovingly against yours. His warm fingers weaved through your hair and held you close. You felt his lips turn up against yours, and he pulled himself flush against your chest as your arms naturally wrapped around his neck. Lucifer pulled himself away before leaning his damp forehead against yours. As the two of you remained in your place, a silent peace fell on you. He was the first to break it with a hesitant whisper. 

“I love you..”

You picked up your hand from around his neck to trail through his hair as you reciprocated his words. 

“I love you too.”

You could feel you heart thumping in her chest, as the two of you meet together in the middle. Warmth flowed between them during this gentle, slow moment, and Lucifer achingly dragged his claws down the bottom of your thighs until he was able to hook his hands under your knees. With his hands anchored in your legs he pulled you up until you sat on his lap. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his waist and Lucifer’s lips pulled away only just enough from you to share his shaky hot breath. 

“Please, let me make you feel good too.” 

The blooming heat within you was fertilized with his words, and you agreed to his request with a low whisper, and he gratefully took this opportunity using your position to lift you and lay you against the cool sheets. A light gasp escaped you as he brushed your hair out of the way and traced his lips down the side of your neck. Once he reached the crook of it, he grazed his teeth against it, receiving a delightful shiver from you. His lips turn up against your skin, and his tongue moves past to roll over your sensitive skin as he moves one of his hands from your thigh to bunch your shirt up past your chest. Your breath hitches as his hot black claws tenderly trails from your navel up to your chest to cup and fondle your breasts. Mindlessly your head pushes back against the plush pillow, and heavy gasps pour out of you as he starts to circle of areola, and gently roll your nipple between his forefinger and thumb sending shockwaves to your abdomen. Lucifer readily moves down to be between your breasts and continues his nipping slowly down towards your navel, pushing your pants and damp underwear down during the process. As his attempts to remove your clothing gets blocked by himself between you, he sits back and is able to get a full view of your sensual state. His mind reels at the sight. Your eyes were half-lidded, holding a hungry expression, and your mouth hung open just enough to allow heated pants to run past your lips as you stared over at him. Slowly small marks started to show, decorating your skin from his previous nipping. Your arms laid at your side after being taken away from his neck as he laid back, waiting to return to their earlier position. 

“So.. beautiful...”

He muttered under his breath as he pushes the clothing past your legs to throw off beside him and sinks down to his spot between your legs. You watch him plop down between your thighs, and suddenly the sound of his breath hitching runs to your ears as he examines the hot, soaked, slit that laid there. As he continued leaving feather-light kisses on your inner thighs, you feel the soft circles Lucifer draws around the sensitive core that had your deep entrance clenching for more. Your hand made their way to his blonde hair and his eyes remained straight on you, entranced by the small sounds that slipped from your throat and the view of your glistening cunt, as he riled you further. As one of his prolonged circles ended at the bottom of your entrance, your breath gets ripped from your lungs as he plunges one of his fingers deep inside you. Lucifer had to steady his foggy brain after feeling you: hot, soaked, tight, and pulsing around him. The blonde thought that he could practically cum right there just from the feeling of you. Slowly he starts to make a consistent pace, thrusting his finger in and out, and in and out of you all while curling it upwards to pull the most pleasure from you. Your head tipped back, and your toes curled as the heavenly drag of the tip of his finger, reached in places your own couldn’t, and sent your shockwaves to your core. He adored this; Lucifer wanted nothing but to please you, to treat you like the goddess he felt you were. It wasn’t too long until moans and praises pleaded for more. 

“Sh-shit Luci.. So.. good for me..”

His eyes glimmered from the praise, as he stared up at you from your slit, deeply into your eyes as he continued, making sure to study your reaction to find what exactly made you feel absolutely and utterly blissful. Not even a moment later his lips parted allowing his tongue slip through, and he made quick work to flick it up across your pleading clit. The sudden wet attention had your hips bucking from underneath him, against his face and hand.  Sonorous moans continuously gushed out of you. He excitedly continued his attention inside you, as he started to suck the sensitive bud intently as he continued to flick his tongue up it at the same pace of his finger. Your tight grasp started to pull at his scalp, and hot white pleasure overwhelmed your mind, as you arched your back up off the bed.  Lucifer pleaded with pent-up whine came from between your legs as you tugged his hair. Then soon a skinny scaly tendril wrapped around one of your thighs joining his other hand to pull it back as Lucifer plunged another finger with the other, causing the tight thread that started it’s endless knotting within you threatening to split. 

“F-Fuck Love I’m gonna-!” 

Your toes curl at the feeling and your melodic warnings of the impending results of his touch graced his ears. Lucifer was unrelenting, continuing this pace as he aimed to tip you over that edge. A few seconds later you felt the thread snap, causing your legs to tremble under his touch, and your back arched further up from the bed. Harmonious whines and moans flooded out of you as trails hot fire overtook your mind and body while you released from underneath him. Lucifer calmed the pace of his fingers down, and watched, mesmerized by you and your walls pulling his fingers further as he helped you ride out your orgasm. As the arch of your back relaxed, and your breathing steadied, he slowly slipped his fingers out of your tight grip. 

“Sooo gorgeous hun, and so…” 

He spoke lowly as Lucifer moved up to face you and positioned his hips back in between your soft thighs. Slowly his fingers were placed to the surface of his lips, pushing past, as he made a show of sucking the slick that coated him. A heavy breath fell to your ears as he allows the fingers to leave his mouth and used his tongue to lick his fingers frivolously. A smirk paints his expression as your eyes met his once again. 

“... delicious..”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him as you see his face. You admired his expression as you saw his chin glisten with your slick and saliva and his half-lidded eyes looked towards you like you were the sweetest dessert he had ever tasted. A whisper of a laugh falls out of you between heavy breaths, as your arms wrapped tightly around the back of his neck, and the tips of your fingers raked through his blonde locks.

Delicately, he held your cheek to lean forward and give you another honey-sweet kiss. For a while it remained as tender and sugary as it started. His lips parted to massage his tongue against yours, and you could taste a faint hint of his blood and you spread across it. You would live in this fleeting moment of connection forever if it hadn't been for the damned need to take a breath. As the contact between the two of you was split, Lucifer could feel your heated breaths against his cheeks. The two of you cherished each other's comfort as you pressed your foreheads against each other once again. A soft smile graced his lips as he savored being with you and held you close.

It wasn’t long till the blonde started to feel the natural need to have you closer. Then he pulled you up against him; your legs instinctively wrapped their way around his hips again. However, your breath picked up as you felt his newly, almost forgotten, arousal against your core, and watched as a guttural groan sneaked its way past his clenched teeth. You looked over to him and whispered to open his now clamped eyes.

“Luci...”

His eyes flickered back to yours as you spoke and felt as his breath hitches at the sight. He looked towards you lovingly; You practically glowed beneath him. Your own breath was bated, and your eyes brimmed with an emotional passion, and fervor. You may have been in an intimate position, but this was so much more than the film he was watching before, and he was relishing having you.

All of you with him. 

“Fuck me Love…” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonus Scene:

Angel Dust continued cleaning the resident’s dishes and took over drying them as the princess moved on to round up the other sinners for an exercise. Then the engraved kitchen doors creaked open with a groan. He didn’t question it too much as he saw the feline bartender stepped in and brought the now only half-empty tray to the sink. A simple clink sounded besides the arachnid as the tray was set against the counter, and Angel looked towards Husk with a raised eyebrow. 

“Not hungry or what?” 

Husk looked back to him after he strolled towards the coffee machine and rubbed his temple, trying to will away a migraine that started to form.

“No, those two are finally fucking.” 

He could hear the creaking and moaning through the floors. Angel Dust’s jaw dropped as he set his rag and plate down, and the corners of his lips curved devilishly. 

“Hell yeah finally! That’s all me baby! I did that! Pay the fuck up!” 

Husk grumbled with a small roll of the eyes, and turned back to him after he poured the black steaming liquid into his mud. The pornstar looked back to him with his hand outstretched and a smug grin that revealed his shining golden tooth, but despite Husk’s small frustrations he handed over the twenty that Angel was looking for. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: Haha poor Husk, anyway, hope you enjoyed! <333

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #fanfiction #fem reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel fanart

[wordsvomit101]

I would put him as a "sad old man" on my contact list if I were MC.

Sometimes I gotta be a bit petty for MC cause they don't do it for themself. Credits to @shyanimeboi and their friend on X: https://x.com/shyanimeboi/status/1795183592961655077/video/4

Warnings: Sexual content, complicated brainstorming about guilt and legacy.

Of course, you would say that- No but honestly, I would be pissed as hell if he said that to me directly, cause sir your brother lowkey put MC's parent on the news, made their friend see his ancestor temporarily, and then almost put them in the casket as well. It's a miracle that they do not blindly hate everything relating to angels at this point. (Although I'm glad that you at least find closure from it you dismal oldster ╮(─_─)╭)

It's a little heartwarming that he shows that he still loves his brothers a lot, given how he said: "traces that Gabriel is alive and well". It got me thinking about how it could very likely mean that he believes at some point in the future, either the other kings kill his brothers or Lucifer will have to choose between Hell (repentance) and his love for them when put in a corner he cannot back out, and with him being the Sin of Pride, I don't think he would either.

Also, if he is happy just by seeing the brand alone then his brothers either avoid attacking Paradise Lost personally or he didn't face them directly after he told off Michael more than 100 years ago and he did say that he "can no longer meet to ask how he is doing".

This first option seems like something Solomon would say. As his descendant, how MC presents themself in the daily chats and some of their options are probably the closest we get to see how Solomon would act when he was still around. An example would be how they question the goofy 3 rules policy in Paradise Lost that was set by the nobles, I will admit, I didn't think of that either. I was affected by the devoted behaviors of the nobles from both the event and the beginning of the prologue, in turn, I put Lucifer on an unreachable pedestal and I love that MC boldly questioned it and presented their opinions and rationale that bring Lucifer closer to the player and shows more air-headed sides to the nobles. They bring new perspectives and challenge the assumptions albeit in a small but significant way. I love it, I hope they do it more in the future.

He also finally said it, the holy words of every prideful bastard I know on media, "How dare you", it took 4 chats but we finally got here.

How he process his brothers' wrongdoings and his own? Very understandable and something, in my opinion, most victims would rather want to get from their offenders' family members, acceptance and acknowledgment of the issues and the damage that was done, and a genuine effort to do the right things. Familial love is very complicated, and it is… difficult to hate and condemn someone you come to love first naturally in your life. I think Lucifer, besides God (but also not really), first loves his brothers, probably the first angel to do so for their kind, and by reading the Seraphs’ comics it clearly shows how they either don’t care or hate each other guts yet still capable of loving Lucifer. He raised them, he's both their brother and their second parental figure, and he show them love outside of their devotion to God.

And how he addresses them in the chat, he calls each one of them a "child", he was being very quietly affectionate by focuses on their well-being when he saw the brand on MC. He also only does this with them and Gamigin, so it is clear how he sees them from a caretaker standpoint (the allegation of him being born in his 30s and raising his brothers is not so far-fetched now, honestly, he is the true dilf here, not God). He knows his brothers ruining other people's lives but when they turn around and love and treat him so dearly that it can feel like what they have done to others is an illusion.

When that illusion doesn't cloud his judgment and beliefs anymore? It will hurt and it can feel like his perception of his brothers are lie. It can be easy to deny the first time but since it happens again and again he has to accept the change and it ain't gonna feel great to realize how he is not the bystander here and directly or indirectly enable his brothers' atrocities (maybe join them in it too at some point, but this is just my thoughts). It gonna rewire how he views a lot of things and it gonna run back from the beginning to the current time, and with how long Lucifer lived? That's rough buddy.

Now, humans are insignificant in these guys' eyes and a single death is nothing to them in the vast universe, yes, but like Lucifer said, God made humans and with how he said it after that, humanity is a part of God's legacy. Legacy is fundamental to what it is to be human to many, something to be carved on their graves and will at the end of their time, it also helps people who live beyond them to remember and let their spirits or unconscious presence remain on the world. So despite humanity in the grand scheme of things, humans are still the work of God. By referring to God as "Our Father," besides asserting his connection, he also indirectly extends that connection to humans. It suggests a shared lineage and inherent value in all of God's creations.

If I interpret what Lucifer said correctly, then the duty of the Seraphim has always been to protect and care for all beings created by God, ensuring the preservation of His legacy. This duty encompasses all creations, whether great or small, beautiful or flawed. To destroy these creations and leave only themselves as His legacy would be a betrayal of their responsibility. A legacy, regardless of its nature, is not to be forcefully erased. Those who seek to erase it tarnish the very legacy they are meant to safeguard and were entrusted to honor.

So if they can't even accept all of God's legacy, no wonder why they can easily go hunt down every single child of one (1) man they are jealous of. Perhaps this is my speculation on what they did with Solomon, who seemed resigned to being forgotten by the devils in chapter 5. They sought to erase his entire bloodline, his descendants, and his legacy, ultimately aiming to make him extinct from the world (like how poachers do it toward endangered animals). For someone like Solomon, this, in my opinion, could be the most terrible fate for him. I honestly wouldn't put it past God's plan to make MC a part of this war for Solomon.

This option is more like the canon MC than the Solomon option from before. They felt more personal here in their anger.

The desensitization for guilt and emotional detachment is strong in this. Lucifer acknowledges the gravity and permanence of the sins he and his brothers have committed and accepts that he must coexist with his guilt and remorse, but how he goes around with it is mostly for himself. Lucifer mentions that he "voluntarily fell to Hell", a form of self-punishment despite his brothers' protests (but also calling Hell the starting point of sadness is wild cause honestly? Not that wrong, I can't see truly happy devils, and if there is, their development happened off-screen).

Lucifer’s remark that the MC is "not that meaningful enough yet" is his emotional detachment from others. His focus remains on his own internal experiences rather than on the perspectives or forgiveness of others. This detachment suggests that his pursuit of guilt is inward-focused, rather than being about seeking forgiveness or redemption through the eyes of others. Selfish and very prideful, very fitting for the Sin of Pride. The idea that Lucifer is almost addicted to the feeling of guilt points to a self-destructive aspect of his personality. It indicates that he may be using guilt as a way to continually punish himself or a way to keep feeling alive through suffering.

Now this leads to my next point:

Lucifer's search for guilt and remorse indicates a need for intense emotional experiences. Witnessing someone cry, especially if he has caused the tears, could provide a powerful emotional release or catharsis for him. This could momentarily alleviate his own feelings of guilt by transferring some of that emotional burden onto others.

Control. By inducing tears in others, he might be exerting a form of control that he lacks in his own life. This dynamic could satisfy a deep-seated need to reclaim some semblance of power over emotional outcomes.

Witnessing tears might serve as a mirror to his own inner turmoil. It externalizes the pain and suffering he feels internally, allowing him to confront it more tangibly. This externalization can create a twisted sense of connection or empathy, aligning with his need to constantly grapple with guilt.

Lucifer's enjoyment of seeing others cry could be intertwined with his own cycle of punishment and redemption. Inflicting emotional pain might be a way for him to project his self-loathing and need for atonement onto others. It creates a scenario where he can experience the aftermath of guilt without direct self-harm.

Causing others to cry could validate Lucifer's sense of guilt and reinforce his belief that he is deserving of punishment. This validation can be perversely satisfying, as it confirms his self-perception as someone who commits unforgivable sins.

Tears are often a sign of vulnerability. Seeing someone in a state of emotional rawness might create a sense of intimacy that Lucifer finds alluring. This intimacy could particularly appeal to someone who feels isolated by guilt and sins.

#what in hell is bad #whb #wordsvomit notes #whb lucifer #whb solomon #I'm done #I'm too tired after writing this #If it all wrong then cool

[asidian]

One thing I haven't seen talked about is Crystal's character arc, and specifically the way the timing of it interacts with Charles' arc. They stumble over each other in the worst possible way en route to their respective character growth, and from a narrative perspective, it's absolutely genius.

I'm going to preface all this by saying: none of this is a criticism of Crystal. Part of what makes her such a dynamic, refreshing character is that you don't get to see women in fiction written the way she's been written. You don't get to see women with her flaws that aren't throw-away mean girls or villains. You especially don't get to see women with her traits who learn and grow and become better people. So yeah, I'm going to talk about Crystal's character flaws. No, this isn't Crystal hate. We love our girl in this house. Okay? Okay. Let's start.

Crystal's character arc, at its heart, is all about her learning to be a better person because she has good influences that love and support her for the first time.

When the show starts, Crystal is not a nice person. She's abrasive in a way that's specifically designed to push people away. She's used to getting her own way, and it shows. She's used to having no meaningful connections with anyone, and it shows. She's breathtakingly selfish, in the very literal sense of the definition. She is focused on her self. Her problems are front and center to her; everything is about what she needs, and what she wants, and how she's struggling.

Jenny calls her out very early on. In episode one, Crystal is complaining about the boys, and Jenny, for all her cynicism, strikes right at the heart of the problem. She tells Crystal, "Everybody is always thinking about themselves, all the time." People only care about their own problems. And she says, correctly, that that's what Crystal is doing, too.

This moment is a revelation for Crystal. For the first time, she considers what her behavior looks like from another person's perspective. As she says, she gets mad at herself over it, and that awareness allows her to do something selfless for the first time in the series. She takes a step back and insists that instead of focusing on her problems, they go to help a little girl. It's a big moment for her.

But importantly, she's not done growing as a character here. She's only just getting started.

On my first watch through, I didn't realize how often, over the next few episodes, Crystal redirects things to her problems during conversation, but it's quite a lot. She's still focused on herself – selfish, in that most literal definition of the word. The issues most important to her are her issues. She's starting to learn to think about other people, but she's not there yet. The process is still underway.

Which brings us to Charles.

Charles' arc is a different sort of self-reflection. He's terrified that he's a bad person the way his father was and the way the boys that killed him were.

During the course of the show, he gets systematically stripped of his confidence and made to feel helpless, and just like Crystal needs outside influences to help her reach a more stable place, Charles does, too. He desperately needs reassurance that he isn't everything he's afraid he is.

But my goodness, the timing in their arcs is such a trainwreck when you put them together, and it is brilliant.

Let's start with the Devlin House.

Crystal has some amazing character growth here. She displays genuine concern about Charles, makes an attempt at comforting him, and learns to work with Edwin even though she still doesn't particularly like him at this point.

Charles, meanwhile, is beginning to fall apart. He's just had the worst night of his afterlife. He's been viscerally reminded of how helpless he is. He couldn't stop the Devlins from being killed over and over, just like he couldn't stop his own father's abuse. He messed up his attempted rescue so badly that he was completely out of commission until the case was finished. He managed to help not one single thing. He made no impact at all. He couldn't help those girls any more than he was able to help himself, while he was still alive.

So they get back to the butcher shop, and what do we see? Monty immediately coopts Edwin. Niko doesn't know what's happened because she wasn't there and Charles has been all fake smiles with her. And Crystal goes off with Niko, leaving Charles to flounder on his own in the wake of everything. She's still learning how to support other people. She isn't there yet, and it's extremely on display in this moment.

Then we get the lighthouse episode, and they both get put through the wringer here. Crystal gets her hopes and expectations jerked around by the Night Nurse in the very worst way, and Charles gets hit with a whole pile full of trauma. All that helplessness wells to the forefront again. Combined with being forced to relive some of his worst memories and the desperation to keep Edwin safe from hell, Charles lets himself act on his anger for once.

And what does he get in the aftermath? Horror.

Everyone who cares about him is horrified by what he's done. Edwin goes so far as to call it extreme. They don't know the half of it, of course; they haven't seen what the Night Nurse just put him through. But in this moment Charles is at his absolute lowest, and all he sees is confirmation that he's exactly as terrible as he thinks he is.

That's why Charles shrugs off Edwin's attempt at comfort, here. When he needed to be able to do something to protect Edwin and also himself – when he needed to believe that he could be better than what his father always was – all he sees is the confirmation from the people he cares about most that when push came to shove, he really is a bad guy.

Then comes the aftermath. And this moment is such a brilliant, awful clash of both of their character arcs. It is so delightfully messy.

Because Charles starts to open up to Crystal here. He starts to lay himself bare, the way he ends up doing with Edwin in episode 5. He's on the verge of admitting something that he's been worried about for literal decades. He tells her, "I've been angry for such a long time."

And what does Crystal do? She's still in the midst of her own character growth. She's still struggling to support other people. She's still learning how to. In a lot of ways, though she's made progress already, she's still that selfish girl that Jenny called out in the very first episode.

And she shows it here it with the absolute worst possible timing. No sooner has Charles started to talk about what's bothering him than she cuts in with her own problems. She's tired of riddles and spirits and demons and not knowing who she is. And the look on Charles' face. The moment when he visibly sets aside his own problems, because Crystal doesn't need any more disasters on her plate? It's heartbreaking. You can actually track the subtle change in his expression there. The actor does a phenomenal job.

And then comes the kiss. And what spurs it? Crystal saying she needs something real.

This moment isn't about light-hearted attraction, the way the earlier flirting is. It's Charles setting aside what he needs – comfort and reassurance and a moment to talk through the things that have been tearing him apart – to give her what she says she wants. He can't even feel it. And Crystal isn't far enough along in her character growth here to realize how selfish she's being. Like Jenny said way back in episode one, she's only thinking about herself.

And then comes the absolute unmitigated disaster of episode 5.

Straight out the gate, Charles leans in for a kiss. From his perspective, they have something together; there's affection there. Charles "I think I'd miss kissing" Rowland, who has been starved for meaningful physical contact for thirty years, is not in a hurry to give this up.

But Crystal is fresh out of a nightmare where she conflates Charles with her abusive ex. She withdraws; she calls what they had a distraction. She cuts it off almost as soon as it's started, so focused on her own worries here that she misses how damn fake Charles' smile is, to cover up that he's coming to pieces.

To be clear, she's absolutely not in the wrong here. It is 1000% her prerogative not to jump into a relationship again while she's still struggling to work through what happened with David. But the arc of her narrative is still early enough that she does it all without so much as the awareness that her focus on her own issues has hurt Charles terribly.

And then the episode really kicks off, and both of them are in shambles in very different ways.

Crystal is projecting her issues with David onto Charles. She has a lot of history, and David seems as though he's exactly the right sort of toxic to leave lasting a lasting impact. But Charles hasn't done anything to deserve her assumptions, and he takes the brunt of her temper here and throughout the episode.

Charles is desperately projecting onto the dead jocks. He very badly wants them to be good guys, because he sees himself in them and he needs himself to be a good guy. He snipes back at Crystal for the very first time in this episode, and he does it in the worst way possible, accidentally prodding her where it will do the most damage.

They're both hurting. They both say some truly painful things to one another.

She does not need to hear that she has unsorted hangups about David still plaguing her while she's unable to move past them. He desperately does not need anyone to tell him that he has rage issues while he's still struggling to think of himself as a decent person.

They apologize, in the end. They start to move past it.

But it's telling that Charles doesn't try to open up to Crystal again. He goes to Edwin instead, even though Edwin is the one who called his actions regarding the Night Nurse extreme. He gets the reassurance he needs so badly; he gets the connection he was looking for with Crystal from Edwin, instead. (I have a lot of thoughts on why Charles initially tries to open up to Crystal so quickly, but it is very much an aside, and this is already extremely long, so it will have to wait for another write-up.)

But the important thing here is, Edwin is the one to offer Charles what he needs to overcome the self-doubt eating him alive. Edwin provides the physical affection Charles was seeking in the form of that long-overdue hug. Edwin is the one who's able to reaffirm for him that he's not just a good guy, he's the best person Edwin knows.

And for all intents and purposes, Charles' major character arc ends here.

Charles has a few last little moments to go on the path to rebuilding his own self-image, after this, but for the most part his concerns have been resolved. He saves Crystal in episode 6 and Edwin in episode 7, proving to himself that he's able to make a difference in the face of overwhelming odds. He's not helpless, no matter what the Night Nurse told him; he can be a force for good in the world. By the end of the series, his crisis of self-doubt seems to have been largely overcome.

But it's the conversation with Edwin at the end of episode 5 that really allows him to work through his most pressing issues. Edwin is there to help support him when he stumbles. Edwin provides him the comfort he was looking for while Crystal was too worried about her own problems to notice how badly he needed the help.

Crystal, meanwhile, still has a ways to go after episode 5. The last three episodes are where she does her most important character growth.

In episode 6, she learns some hard lessons about keeping secrets and letting people help and appreciate you even when you can't offer them anything in return. And Charles, importantly, is there for her every step of the way. He consistently offers her physical and emotional support. He models for her, in a very real way, what it looks like to have someone prop you up when you need the help.

And in turn, Crystal steps in to save the boys. She's the big damn hero at the end of this episode.

The breakthrough continues into episode 7. She's so intent on helping to get Edwin out of hell that she literally goes to face her own demons, not for herself for once – not for her own purposes or needs or wants – but because she wants to help someone else.

And episode 8, at long last, brings her to the culmination of her character arc.

Crystal is at her absolute lowest here. Her family, the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, didn't even realize she was gone. Her precious memories, that she's spent the entire series trying to regain, have showed her that she's not the person she hoped she would be. She's overwhelmed enough that she means to flee, to cut herself off from her new friends entirely.

Then the boys get kidnapped. And just like that, she makes up her mind.

For the first time since the start of the series, she sets aside her most important issues in order to let what other people need take precedence. She disregards all of her own personal concerns and focuses instead on others. She's finally stepped out of those selfish impulses that Jenny calls her out on, all the way back in the first episode. She's finally learned how to support other people when they need it.

Crystal has finally figured out how to be there for others, despite having troubles of her own.

It's a lovely arc, and it's beautifully done.

Charles' is just as touching.

And god damn, but it was a brilliant narrative choice to have their character arcs line up in exactly the wrong way.

#dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda spoilers #charles rowland #crystal palace #edwin payne #meta commentary

[knightjpg]

analgesia

It's not the first time he's got himself skunk drunk when back home on leave, and part of you resents his decision for joining the military. Clearly that has to be the reason for him living it up like it's his last goddamn night on Earth at every opportunity, right? You're more familiar with his sloppy cheek kisses and wandering hands while you get him home than you'd like, but such are the burdens of best friend privileges. It's Johnny—harmless, familiar. A little stupid and a lot sweet.

tags: dubcon, johnny/reader, alcohol mention, unprotected piv (wrap it up kids)

“Fuck's sake, Johnny, keep your feet—!”

Johnny just laughs and leans all of his weight on your shoulder again, making you squeak and scramble for balance. 

“Le's dance, bonnie, c'mon, we gotta go dancin’,” he slurs in your ear. 

A laugh bubbles up your throat before you can help it. You're tired and annoyed and exasperated, but it's just so damn hard to stay angry at Johnny with his big blue puppy eyes and the way he's always smiling like a little boy caught doing something he shouldn't have. 

Dancing... Ridiculous. He can't even walk in a straight line. 

“No,” and you try to sound firm through your smile. “We're going home, and we're getting you a glass of water. You stink.” 

Johnny answers you with a full-on whine, burying his nose in your shoulder and scratching against your skin with his stubble. “Why're you s'mean. Why d’ye hate me.” 

"If I hated you I’d dump your ass at a bus stop and leave you to sober up by yourself.” You hoist his arm more securely around your shoulder while you walk, thanking every higher being you can think of for wearing sensible sneakers tonight. Johnny's leaning into you so hard you have to lean back an almost equal amount just to stay upright and keep shuffling forward. 

And so when he suddenly stops you almost fall face-first on the hard stone pavement. “What—” 

You can see Johnny turn pale even under the dim lantern light, and he presses a hand to his mouth before doubling over— 

“No no no please don't throw up—” 

...and retching his guts out in the gutter. You allow yourself a deep sigh and watch your breath turn into a puff of cloud while listening to Johnny heave the alcohol out of his system. It's so dark out you can even make out the flicker of some stars when you look up, winking in and out of existence as the opaque curtains of cloud drift by. 

When he's done you look down and wince at the stains on his shoes. He's shivering, and pity has you rubbing a hand over his shoulder. 

“Ah dinnea feel s’good,” he mumbles. 

“I can see that. C'mon, big boy. It's gonna be okay.” 

He unsteadily lets you help him to his feet again. He's been feeling off all night, and you watch him with a mixture of worry and sadness. 

It's not the first time he's got himself skunk drunk when back home on leave, and part of you resents his decision for joining the military. Clearly that has to be the reason for him living it up like it's his last goddamn night on Earth at every opportunity, right? 

You're more familiar with his sloppy cheek kisses and wandering hands while you get him home than you'd like, but such are the burdens of best friend privileges. It's Johnny—harmless, familiar. A little stupid and a lot sweet. 

But it's never quite felt like this. He was all smiles tonight until... 

Until when? 

You don't know what set him off. You were with the usual crew, old friends. Everything seemed fine—Johnny'd been playing darts with some of the other lads and you'd been with the girls, gossiping over dates and breakups and relationship advice. 

You'd shyly told them the bloke you'd gone out with last week called you back asking for another date, and were hounded afterwards for details. You'd been having fun until you weren't. Or rather, until you were too distracted by Johnny slamming back drink after drink with tense shoulders and tight eyes. 

You sigh again when you reach your apartment. You had plans for tomorrow, but... You glance at Johnny. His head's slumping forward till his chin is almost touching his chest. You don't want to leave him feeling sick by himself. 

Johnny's drunkenly mumbling to himself while you fish around your bag for your keys with one hand. One of his arms curls around your waist, making it harder, and then his hand wanders high enough to grope at your breast. 

“Chrissake, Johnny,” you smack his arm. “Play nice. I'm trying to—” 

“Love ye s’much, bonnie,” he mumbles against your neck, hand not moving an inch even with your nails digging into his skin. If anything it makes him cling to you more tightly, and you're worried he'll fall and break his thick stupid head if you push him off you with more force. 

“Yes, yes, love you too. Idiot. Now let go, I want to get out of the cold...” 

Somehow you manage to move around his iron grip and click open the door. You put up with his slobbering against your neck because it makes him a lot easier to deal with getting up the stairs and then, fucking finally, you're in your apartment where it's warm and cosy. 

You shuffle over to the bedroom because it's closest and there's just absolutely no way Johnny's going to fit on your couch. You've tried. It's not worth putting up with the complaining about back pain the next morning. 

Johnny flops onto the mattress and just when you think the finish line is in sight, his hand snatches yours so quick it's a blur. 

“Dinnea leave...” 

“Have to get you a glass of water,” you tell him gently, trying and failing to pry his fingers off your wrist. 

“Dinnea want ye t’fuckin’ leave...” his voice breaks in the middle and you stop short for a second—is he crying?  

God, how drunk is he...? You'd hoped throwing up would have counted towards sobering up, but apparently not. 

“Shush, it's okay, it's okay. We'll get you some water and you'll sleep it off, alright?” 

Johnny slurs something you don't catch and you take the opportunity to slip away and get him a glass. You make him drink it all, even manage to get him to rinse his mouth. He does as you say without fuss, wavering between stubborn as a rock and pliantly obedient as always. 

“You're a handful and a half,” you say, but without any real heat to it. You brush back strands of brown hair—his mohawk's been growing out. He'll probably ask you to cut it again before he returns to base... 

When he starts to slump over again you quickly take the glass from him and set it on the bedside table, and push against his shoulder to get him to lie on his back. “Christ, what are they feeding you,” you mumble to yourself. He's got to be bigger every time you see him—you don't think you could fit two hands around his arm. 

When you pull back to get Johnny a blanket he grabs at you again, and this time you're too caught off guard to keep your balance. You fall half on top of him with an ‘oomf!’ and narrowly avoid kneeing him in the groin. 

“Give me a fucking break,” you huff when he takes this as the go-ahead for a nice cuddle. Those thick arms immediately wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

“Love ye s’much,” he slurs again, mouth tucked just below your ear. Every time he moves his lips it's like he's kissing you, and despite everything you have to suppress a few shudders. “So fuckin’ bonnie. Was lookin’ at ye all night. Wanted t’go dancin’ with my girl, take ye home...” 

You flush. It always takes you by surprise, the drunk ‘my girl’s, to the point where you asked him about it one time. Johnny just laughed and shrugged. “You are my girl. Known you the longest since forever, aye?” 

You pointed out that's not quite what it means, and the only reply you got was that he wouldn't call you that if it bothered you. It's a promise he forgets every time he goes out, though... 

“You're drunk,” you tell him. 

“M'not,” he says, breath hot against your neck. It's followed by something wet, and you jolt in his arms. 

“What’re you—Johnny, gross, what the hell!” 

He licks at you again, and the twitch that follows is involuntary. Your neck is sensitive and, well, so what if it's been a while? The guy you're planning to see next week was going to fix that. Not Johnny. He's not... He's not supposed to be— 

“Taste s’fuckin’ good,” Johnny groans against your neck. The bed shifts and creaks, and this time there's a graze of teeth.  

“Wait,” you gasp, voice suddenly thin and airy and so distracted by Johnny biting at your skin it takes more than a few minutes for you to realise the bed is creaking because he's humping your thigh. 

An embarrassed heat zaps through you right to your core, and the intensity of it makes you break out into a sweat. 

“Johnny, Johnny, wait—” 

He outright moans when you say his name, hands squeezing your waist before sliding down to cup your ass and angling your hips to slot his own into. “Make it so good for you, kitty, need ye s’bad...” 

Jesus Christ. Mortifyingly you can feel yourself getting wet. Just—the proximity, the heat, the electricity running up your spine every time his big hands slide over your thighs. You feel trapped, suffocated, almost, and unfortunately the fact that you can't get away from him even if you try makes the dizzy feeling in your stomach spin harder. 

When Johnny sucks at your neck and roughly tugs up your shirt to knead your chest through your bra there's a few seconds of white-out bliss, and you seriously consider giving in and just— 

No. He's drunk. Probably barely has any idea what he's doing—never remembers what he said or did the next morning. You can already imagine the apologetic hugs, the huge pleading eyes. He'd feel terrible. 

“You're drunk—you're drunk, c'mon, Johnny, we can't, we gotta...” you cut yourself off to muffle the moan that threatens to slip when Johnny ducks his head down and starts giving your chest open-mouthed kisses.  

“No,” you protest weakly, unsure if you're telling him or yourself, because despite your good intentions you really don't want him to stop. Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad if you let Johnny make you feel good? He won't remember, will honestly probably pass out before anything actually happens, and... and... 

“We gotta be—gotta be smart, Johnny, oh—” his name comes out as a sob when he flicks your nipple with his tongue, and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Say my name, bonnie, sound s’fuckin’ pretty for me... Gonna make ye sing, make ye feel so good,” Johnny pants against your skin. One of his hands worms its way down, almost rips the buttons off your pants, cups your core right through panties. You shake from just that, back arching, hips stuttering away and then back towards him because this is unfair. Isn't drunk sex supposed to be shite? Why is he making it work? What's wrong with you? 

Johnny moans loudly, unlike you completely unashamed and uninhibited and very happy to let you know that you're “So fuckin’ wet for me—tha's for me, aye? All mine? Fuck, tha's good—Sweet little cunt...” 

You push at his shoulders with less and less conviction. You try tugging at his mohawk to get his attention, desperate not to have to be the voice of reason here, but all that does is make him shudder and bite at your tits. 

And neither gets him to take his hands out of your pants, though he very quickly decides just feeling you soak your panties isn't good enough. With a lot more alacrity than you should reasonably expect of him he pushes aside your underwear, starts flicking your clit, and sticks his tongue down your throat to eagerly drink down your sounds of pleasure. 

“Missed ye so much, miss my girl all the time,” he whines into your mouth. You can feel his cock thick and erect through his jeans, still rubbing against your hip, and you shiver, because Johnny's stupid big fingers are working you to completion at a rollercoaster pace. But when you start to tremble, breaths coming short and quick and needy— 

He stops. 

“No!” you whimper, sounding as pathetic and desperate as you feel. If he falls asleep now you're going to kill him. 

But Johnny hasn't fallen asleep. When you crack your eyes open you look right into his, glittering in the half-dark of your room. When he speaks his voice is husky, low and tight with desire coating the edges. 

“Tell me y’need me, aye? Wee lil’ cunt need me so bad?” 

To punctuate his question he flicks at your clit again, and when your hips jolt in response his free hand presses them down into the mattress. Keeping still. 

There's a split second of doubt, the voice of reason rearing its head in the back of your mind. This isn't right—he's drunk. You've just started seeing someone, kind of, not quite dating yet, but it wouldn't be fair—right? 

You can't quite catch Johnny's expression in the low light, but the edges of him seem to sharpen when you don't answer right away. In one fluid motion he pushes himself up to hover over you, knee nudging your legs open wider, and presses his forehead against yours before starting excruciatingly slow circles on your clit. 

You gasp and pant and can't do anything except lie there and let the weight of both his body and his gaze pin you to the bed, helpless and mortified at your own body's response. Because even though it's slow you are soaking him, him and yourself. Your jeans are ruined; your underwear is a joke. You're pretty sure if Johnny pulled away now his hand would be wet up to the wrist. 

And you don't want him to pull away. You almost cry in relief when he speeds up his rhythm, so glad you don't have to make a decision after all and can simply receive whatever the alcohol in Johnny wants to give you... 

Until he stops. Right on the edge, mean fucker, and this time tears slip past your lashes. “No, no, please, please, you can't—please, Johnny...” 

“Tha's better,” he says roughly, the hand on your hip travelling up to pinch at your nipple until you try to wriggle away from him. “Love ye so much, kitty. Tell me you love me, c'mon.” 

“I—” you swallow, mouth feeling dry despite all of Johnny's slobber. This feels like more than it should be. You love your friends. You love Johnny. But— 

“Y’want it?” One of his thick fingers prods at your entrance without ever really entering, and the promise of relief so close is what breaks you. 

“Yes,” you whimper. “I want it. Please. Please...” 

Your reward is one thick finger slowly entering you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and sob at the sensation. It's almost—almost—everything you've ever needed. Johnny's breath has gone ragged above you, eyes glued onto your every expression. 

“Y’need me, aye? Say it. Say you need me.” 

“I need you,” you manage to stutter out, the last vowel of which transforms into a drawn-out moan when it gets you a slow crook of his finger inside you. It's so fucking slow, Jesus H., but it's something. If he stops now you're going to lose your mind. 

Your desperation along with your evident arousal softens Johnny, and he coos at you while he fingers you. “Don't hav’ta go anywhere, jus’ stay right here with me, give you everythin’ you need...” 

It'd almost be sweet if you could think straight, and you should be, you're supposed to be the one keeping a clear head, but it's really hard to think anything at all when Johnny's messily kissing you again. 

“Pretty girl,” he groans when you squeeze around his finger. “My pretty girl. Ye love me? D’ye love me, bonnie?” 

Your stomach is tightening and with a spike of panic you rush to answer this time: 

“Yes, yes, Johnny, love you—” 

How unfair that that makes him stop. He looks at you, eyes big and wild, cheeks flushed, like a kid opening a Christmas present he was told his parents didn't have the money for. And then he pulls away entirely to rip your jeans off. By the time it catches up to you, you barely have the wherewithal to raise your hips to help him. 

His own clothes follow suit so quickly you fear for the fabric, and then realise it's yourself you should be worried for. You had an inkling of Johnny's size, have woken up to it pressing against your ass too many times to count, but... 

That's not going to fit, you think wildly, and Johnny must see some of the panic on your face, because while he lines his thick leaking tip up to your soaking cunt his other hand pets at your cheeks, lingers on your throat. “Doing so good, bonnie, gonna make ye feel so good, fill you up so nice...” 

His moan fills the room when he slides in another few inches, bounces off the walls and ricochets inside your head. It doesn't hurt, thank God—you're drenched and desperate and at this point frankly impatient. 

Johnny slides in deeper and tugs your legs around his waist, makes you keep them there when he bottoms out and lets out a wild groan from somewhere deep in his chest. You can feel it in your own, pressed against you as he is. 

“Perfect girl,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then slamming them back into yours. “Fuckin’ mine—all f’r me.” 

This time you're not sure who leans in for the kiss first. It doesn't matter anymore. Your moans and whimpers steadily grow in volume until you're crying under Johnny, clinging to him while he fucks you following a rhythm too quick and wild to try to meet. 

When he presses his thumb to your clit again it barely takes anything to ignite the fire again, wild and hot and ready to boil over. Johnny coos at you again when your mouth drops open in long, silent cry, cunt clenching around him hungrily. “Tha's it, bonnie, feel so good, aye? Pretty kitty feelin’ so good? Fuckin’ made for me, gonna fuck ye so full—” 

It doesn't take long for him to do exactly that. You can feel his cum filling you, hot and heavy, long spurts accompanied by Johnny's desperate moans and whimpers. 

You whine when he collapses on top of you to give you more lazy, open-mouthed kisses—“You're heavy, Johnny, get off”—and try to catch your breath in the two seconds of reprieve you get before he's pulling you into his chest. 

You're spent. Sweaty, flushed, and boneless. The sheets are no doubt disgusting, but it's so late and you're too fucked-out to care. You file it away for tomorrow, just like the hundred other things you're going to have to talk about somehow... 

Johnny lets out a deep, contented sigh, tucking you under his chin and pulling your leg over his waist like he's rearranging a doll. You don't have the strength in you to protest. It's only when you feel his cock prodding at you again that you jolt away from him and try to remove your leg, but Johnny frowns, clicking his tongue like he would at a disobedient pet.  

“I want to sleep, Johnny, 'm tired...” 

Johnny tuts softly, keeping you still with a firm grip while he enters you again. “’S just for keepin’ it all in, bonnie, dinnea fuss. See? ‘S nice all full like this, aye? Wake ye up all nice ‘n proper tomorrow.” 

You wriggle in his grasp with a soft whine—Johnny's cock is girthier than any other you've had before and you're sore from being used like a battering ram, even if it felt mind-numbingly good. But Johnny's arms are iron, and the more you try to move around the tighter he holds you to him. 

Eventually you give up and give in. Sleep is tugging at you insistently, and when you relax around him it's not so bad. Johnny kisses you when he feels you settle, his hand running soothingly over your bare skin. 

It's enough for you to be lulled into sleep. Before you drift off one last thought surfaces: 

Isn't Johnny supposed to be good at holding his liqueur...? 

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap/reader #john soap mactavish x reader #x reader

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 3)- matt sturniolo

part 1, part 2, part 3

summary: matt hates your guts but all of that changes when he finds out your his mate.

contains: vampire!matt x reader, highschool au! (18 years old), smut (not in this part)

a/n: a short chapter but the next ones a biggie. love yall and thank you so much for the support

——————————————————————————

when i wake up, i’m strapped to a bed frame. i struggle against the restraints but all that comes out of it is another dizzy spell.

“hey, your awake” i whip my head around to see two blue eyes staring back at me. fear shoots into my chest again, as i stare at matt’s brother, chris, in front of me. if matts not human, then i bet he’s not either.

“get away from me” my voice shakes and i gear my legs up to be ready to kick if necessary. “i know matt scared you pretty bad yesterday, but i promise, no ones going to hurt you here.” he comes and sits on the side of the bed, placing his hand on my knee gently

chris and i have only ever had one class together and it was in our sophomore year, but i always thought highly of him. he was nice and funny, unlike his brother. i may have even had a crush on him, if i had allowed myself to. the version of him i knew before, overides my fear of what he is and as he strokes my knee some of my fear goes away. but then all of a sudden, anger spikes within me that somehow doesn’t feel like my own. chris’ hand that was once comforting felt like a hot clothing iron on my skin. i wince and chris takes his hand off me immediately. instead, he looks towards the doorway apprehensively.

in the doorway, is none other than the matt sturniolo, and he looks furious.

fear and another feeling i can’t put my finger on fills me at the sight of him. i take a deep breath to try and calm myself down. at least he looks like he’s back to normal, no more red eyes and black veins.

“hey, she was freaking out, i was only trying to help. it’s not like that, i swear.” chris puts his arms up defending himself and trying to ease matts anger.

“whatever, get out” he snarls and i wince at the sound. chris scrambles out the room and matt marches up to me, sitting in the exact spot chris was moments before. unlike chris’ gentle touch, matt grabs my thigh roughly and possesively. even though the move was aggressive, when i feel his touch my body relaxes and my thighs clench together, hard. why is this turning me on and why did i stop panicking all of a sudden? his presence and touch should do nothing but scare me after everything he’s done. after everything i’ve seen.

“there you go” he coos darkly. “just relax, i have a lot of shit to tell you.” he says staring into my eyes intensely. the stare sends a heat surging through my body and i feel myself starting to get wet. if i could punch myself in the face i would. “get to it, make it quick.” i snip.

“have it your way then, i was gonna take it slow but i guess not.” he shrugs. “i’m a vampire and your my mate. thats why i went ape shit yesterday. thanks for listening to my ted talk.” he deadpans and cocks his head to the side.

even though it sounded like it was a joke, we both knew it wasn’t. my mind didn’t want to believe it, but my body knew it was true. matt is a vampire, and i am his mate.

“how? how am i your mate? whatever the fuck that is!” my voice raises in anger. did he pick me? maybe, to just to fuck around with me and tie me into all his weird vampire shit. did he really hate me that much?

“what, you think i know?!” he matches my angry tone before taking a breath, bringing his other hand up to rub his temple. “trust me, i have no idea sweetheart. if it were my choice, i’d have anyone but you. but for now, your stuck with me” he rolls his eyes. “and vice versa” he mutters.

his hand is still gripping my thigh and not a fiber of my being wants him to move it, even with all the arguing. and judging by the way he’s looking at me now, it looks like he’s stopping himself from doing more. i feel myself getting annoyed with myself for wanting him to do whatever he pleased and more.

“stop getting annoyed” he snaps. “its just the mating bond making us react to each other this way. nothing you can do about it” matt breathes in deeply and a shudder racks through him.

“what was that?” i ask weirded out by the almost animalistic behavior. “you just smell really good to me right now. i couldn’t help myself” he breathes out, eyes darkening slightly.

this man could really eat me alive if he wanted too. i shiver at the thought, but then my mind reels again. how did he know i was annoyed??.

“how did you know? that i was annoyed, i mean” you say bewildered by what being mated might entail. “now that you’re mine, i can feel your emotions almost like their my own. you can do it too, but humans aren’t as good at pin pointing it as we are.” he smirks like being a whole monster is something to be proud of and being human is childs play.

that would explain the random surge of anger earlier with chris. another wave of annoyance courses through me. he’s sooo possessive already. his words from yesterday rings through my head.

“because you’re mine.”

matts voice breaks through my silence. “but don’t worry this is all temporary” he smiles to himself. “i know a girl, and im pretty sure she can get rid of this” he gestures between the both of us. i can’t help the smile that rips through me at the good news.

“then what are we waiting for” i say impatiently.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@katie-tibo

@cindylcuwho

@mattslolita

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #vampire aesthetic #mating #enemies to lovers #forced proximity

[weepinglilvessel]

The Chaotic Unit

It was time that I introduced some of my original characters. For a lil fun fact they used to all be my old sonas! (Some date way back from 2016) But now that they were useless for so I decided to do something with them :3

The Chaotic Units are a group of 7 people/creatures that took part in the creations of the ‘Projects’ (including project 22, 57, and 99). They are also the higher ups of the Weapons of Creation laboratory, tho the main ones who are in charge the ones who started the group. Most/all of them come from a different universe.

5 of the 7 retired until they were called back due to 3 of the projects that escaped. They are now ordered to kill them on sight.

They are ranked by strength, active productivity and “intelligence”.

Kenina: Elf

Loud mouthed and energetic. She is ranked 7th out of all of the others. She is all about being in others business or getting a one up on the rest oh the crew. She hates how low her ranking is and is why she is how she is for the most part. She is also “hot headed and gets angry easily. Her job in the lab was to make sure creatures didn’t escape.

Odelia: Cat

Energetic and insane. She is the ranked 6th of the group and is the most crazed of them all. Her tattoos from another version of herself during battle or risky task. She’s jumping and loud which causes her to sometimes not be allowed in the labs. Her job was to regulate temperatures of viles in rooms and “getting rid” of failed experiments.

Visenya: Fox/Sun bear hybrid

Gets angry easily and is ranked 5th of the group. He is required to have a muzzle on due to constant biting and ripping objects around them when in a crazed state. He is usually quiet around their other workers unless instructed to help if needed to. His job was to also make sure nothing escaped into the public eye.

Page: Witch

A quiet and shy individual who for the most part keeps to herself. She is ranked 4th of the group. She mainly enjoys creating different music on her own time with her hair. While being the youngest out of all of them she is quite smart and is in charge of organizing information and putting any creature that went wild to sleep.

Finch: Faun

Bossy yet serene when wanting to be. He is ranked 3rd out of the group. He prefers for everything to be pitch perfect and gets a little irritated when something is not done correctly. He’s nitpicky and will not hesitate to do something himself if not deemed perfect. He is in charge of organization and labels.

Sab: Human??

Short tempered and is ranked 2nd of the group. Due to an error in one of their experiments with Stellar, they lost their legs and their chest was now exposed. Having to be replaced with robotic parts. Mushrooms ended up infesting them as well due to exposure to radiated spores. They are also the second in command of the entire organization.

Stellar: Human??

Controlling and sadistic. Ranked 1st of the group as a whole. Her chest cavity was also exposed due to their experiment with Sab. The failure of said experiment also caused her body to slowly start rotting from the inside and outside. Likes to make sure her worker knows who is boss and that everything is perfect with no errors. She also refuses to take off her mask.

That is all for now! More shall come soon!

#weepingart #original characters #my original characters #oc tag #oc info #oc ref sheet #my characters

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | JTK | Prologue

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: breakups, feelings of sadness, crying, high school relationships, angst, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

welcome to the show, everyone 😁 glad to be back with another Jake fic. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! (this has been sitting in my drafts for SO long)

August, 2014

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

“Jake,” you whispered, your lips pressed together tightly as the corners of your mouth dipped down into a frown. Your eyes were shining under the warm yellow hue of the ceiling light, the threat of unshed tears growing more imminent with each second that passed. The walls of your childhood bedroom were familiar, but completely different all at the same time. Years worth of cherished memories flashed before your eyes as the boy stood before you amongst half-filled boxes and your torn-apart closet.

“No,” he cut you off, shaking his head so you could not speak any further.

His hair was long, moving against his skin with each turn of his head. It reached the middle of his neck now, and it would only get longer as he continued to grow it out. You couldn’t help but feel that the long hair suited him best, that it brought out the beauty of his face even more than it already did on its own. He’d been talking about it for so long that you could already picture what it would look like on him. You were sad that you would not be able to see it when his mission was complete and the ends of his hair tickled the underside of his shoulder blades.

No, you were sad that you would miss any stage of Jake’s life, devastated that there would be any version of him you were unfamiliar with.

The sweatshirt he was wearing was heartbreaking all on its own; you bought it for him months prior on your three day trip to tour the university you were now preparing to attend. There were bags under his eyes, showing his exhaustion and discomfort with the current arrangement the two of you found yourselves in. His eyes themselves were bloodshot, and worse than that, they were sad. You hated seeing anything less than joy written in his features, because he was a boy deserving of things that were only ever good.

Right now, you knew that what you were doing to him was anything but good, and it was fucking killing you.

You only ever wanted to be the reason for the smile on his face, and now you were the source of his misery; you loved him so utterly and deeply that you turned into the very thing that hurt him.

“You said you didn’t want to make this harder than it needed to be, but it’s going to fucking suck no matter how we do things. I can’t let you leave without telling you—“ he cut himself off, clearing his throat as his gaze flickered to the floor. There were tears glistening in his eyes, too, but he was much more afraid to show them than you were. “I can’t let you go unless I know that you know how much you mean to me.”

“It is hard, Jake. This is the hardest thing I have ever done.” You confessed, sniffling away your sadness as you tried to cement the memory of his face in your brain forever. He was beautiful, and he always had been. His warm eyes spoke love without him ever opening his mouth, and his smile was the only thing that could brighten the darkest of days.

“The whole distance thing is stupid, and I don’t like it. We’ve been together for three years, and I can’t sit at home and act like you don’t mean anything to me.” His words were equal to a stab in the stomach.

You did not intend to hurt him when you suggested taking some time away from each other. You thought it would be easier, that it would make your departure less painful as you both came to terms with the fact you would be leaving him behind, but so far it had been nothing but horrendous. You stayed up every night, staring at the ceiling as you remembered what it felt like to lay next to him. You listened to new music, hoping it would make you feel something other than sadness, but the emotion that plagued you grew tenfold when you realized you had no one to share it with. You checked your phone constantly, hoping to see his name grace your screen, only to find that he was too good at respecting your wishes.

Jake was your boyfriend, and it had been that way for a long time, but he was so much more than just that. He was your best friend, your confidant and the very thing you knew you could lean on in times that were tougher than usual. He was your light in darkness, and he was everything you ever needed all at once. Jake was the whole world, and in that moment, he was yours. As of late, you felt more stupid than ever before, unable to forgive yourself for letting him go. He loved you through the awkwardness of growing into a teenager, and he loved you through the usual triumphs and disasters of high school. He loved you when you thought no one else could, and he did it so well that you had no idea what to expect now that he was not going to be yours anymore.

He stood before you, freshly eighteen with a new found freedom in life. You were just shy of the same age, but the freedom you found did not feel very special at all. You expected your high school graduation to be sweet, exciting and fun, but so far it brought you nothing but turmoil. You scored top of your class and had people throwing scholarships in your face. As much as you wanted to enjoy it, you couldn’t seem to find any joy in the experience. You tried to blame it on your nerves as you spent the summer preparing to drive states away to attend a university that you had only visited once, but you knew it had nothing to do with that. You were thrilled to continue your studies, to pursue something that you had spent your life dreaming about. You were excited to meet people, to grow into the person you were always meant to be.

It was not the school that made your stomach twist with nerves, but the knowledge Jake would not be coming with you. It was the knowledge that after three years, you would have to learn to live without him by your side, and worst of all, you had to digest the fact that he would move on. In due time, his heart and the love he once gave to you would be someone else’s, and he would be happy again, without ever having a second thought about you.

No matter where Jake went, you knew he would flourish, that he would find someone that would love him just as much, if not more, than you loved him.

That thought was comforting as much as it was gut wrenching. Jake deserved to be loved, but you wished you were the person who could love him the way he deserved.

What hurt just a little worse than that was the passing thought that you would never find someone who would love you the way Jake loved you.

You had done everything with him up until two weeks prior, when you pleaded with him to give you some space so you could grieve the fact your relationship would be coming to an end. You did not cut off contact completely, and in that time, you had called him almost daily and payed short visits to his house every now and again. You wanted it to make you feel better, but all it did was make the ache of missing him grow even larger despite him still being there when you needed him. You knew that when you got in your car the next morning, it would be the definite end of the two of you, but it did not mean you were happy, and you were certainly not okay with it.

If missing him while he was still beside you hurt achingly bad, you could not imagine the pain that would come as you drove away from the only thing you ever wanted to have.

The two of you discussed the topic heavily over the last few months, finding yourselves in a great debate of whether long distance would work for the two of you. Eventually, after many tears and lots of sad, sleepless nights, the two of you decided that it would be best to let the loving relationship you had created remain a memory. He didn’t want you worrying about him while you were focusing on your studies, and you didn’t want to tie him down while he tried to make his own life at home.

Although the two of you agreed on the terms, it hurt like a bitch.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You whispered, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to express your remorse. “I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”

“Just listen to what I have to say, and then you can deal with it however you want.” He tried again, still staying strong despite the pain growing larger in his heart.

“Okay.” You whispered, giving a slight nod as you stepped back and took a seat on the edge of your bed. He followed suit, stopping by your dresser to place the sparse bushel of wildflowers down as he approached you.

He took a seat beside you, extending his arm for you to take the CD. Slowly, you grabbed it from his hands, a slight shake to your fingers as they clasped around the cool, hard plastic. You looked down at the white surface through the clear cover, feeling the first tear fall from your eye. In the familiar, scribbled handwriting, a love note more romantic than any other littered the surface of the CD.

‘I can’t tell you how I feel, so I’ll let the songs say it instead. All my love, Jake ᥫ᭡’

“Wild Horses, Rolling Stones.” He started, watching your face as he spoke. “You told me when we started dating that your dad used to sing it to your mom, and you thought it was the most romantic song in the world until they got divorced. You said that you hated it, and you would never be able to listen to it again, and I could tell that you were so sad about it. So, I sang it to you. I wanted to turn it back into a good memory. I learned the chords and I used my dads old acoustic guitar, and I was fucking terrified, Y/N. It was the first song I ever played for you, and you told me that nobody had ever done anything so nice for you before.”

“‘Cause nobody ever had.” You said, the sentiment still remaining true to this day.

“Wonderful Tonight, by Eric Clapton.” He continued, knowing his time was running short. The evening was darkening into night, and he wasn’t keen on spending your last bit of time together solely talking. “We slow danced in the kitchen to that song, ‘cause I told you I didn’t know how to dance and I didn’t want to embarrass myself at prom. You let me pick the song and then you taught me how, and I think of you every time I hear it.”

The memory was as beautiful as the song was, and you felt another tear fall at the explanation. You had no idea how you were going to let him go, and no desire to do it, anyway, even if you knew it was for the best.

“I need you, Lynyrd Skynyrd. Pretty self explanatory.” He let out a small chuckle, which you joined in on. “The Air That I Breathe, The Hollies.” He jumped straight to the next track. “Listen to the words, and you’ll get it.”

“Jake, this is too much.” You took in a shaky breath, swiping tears away from your cheeks.

“No, Y/N. It’s not enough.” He corrected. “You deserve the whole world, and I wish I could give it to you.”

“You’re not making this any easier.” You forced a smile on your face, your cheeks damp with your own misery. He reached out, swiping away the tears as they fell, hoping that by some stroke of luck, he would still be yours even long after you had gone.

“It was never going to be easy, beautiful.” He finally said the words he’d been holding back the whole time. He had tried his hardest to convince you that it would be okay, hoping that in turn, he would convince himself, too. Now that he was sitting beside you, still just as sad, he knew easy was subject, and only time would heal the wounds that were created that night. “If You Gotta Go, Go Now, by Dylan.”

“Or Else You Gotta Stay All Night.” Your lips turned upwards into a small smile. It wouldn’t be from Jake had there not been at least one Dylan song on the track.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers, cause I know it’s gonna be pretty dark for a while after you leave, Sunshine.”

“Don’t say that.” You said, feeling your stomach twist with remorse.

“It’s true.” He argued. “Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits, ‘cause maybe it’s just the time that’s not right for us.” His voice was quiet, cracking as he forced the words out, like he was fearful to get an unwanted answer to his rhetoric. “Maybe in the future, the time will be right, and we can try again.”

“God, I hope so.” You confessed, the tears making a rapid return. The more he spoke, the more real the entire thing felt. For years, you had brushed the topic off, forcing yourself to believe that senior year and university was so far away, but now that it was staring you in the face, making it impossible to see past it, you realized the time had flew by like nothing at all. You didn’t want to leave him, because he was the only thing you ever wanted. The idea of having him again in the future made the ache ease ever so slightly, but knowing that the whole middle part would suck made the relief insignificant.

“And the last one is We’ve Got Tonight by Bob Segar, ‘cause we do, sunshine. We have one more night to love each other, and I’ll be damned if I waste it. So here I am, with eight songs and some flowers that I found in my backyard, asking you if you’ll let me love you until you leave tomorrow. It doesn’t have to hurt right now, and we don’t have to let it hurt worse than it has to.”

“Okay,” you breathed, little argument left in you. If he wanted to love you, you weren’t stupid enough to turn him away. Tomorrow, when the sun rose in the sky, illuminating the mistakes you made and highlighting your successes, you would deal with the inevitable disappointment that came along with losing him, but you didn’t have to start yet. At that moment, you still had him, and you wanted to savour the feeling of Jake Kiszka being yours for as long as you could.

“Okay?” He asked, almost shocked at your lack of rebuttal.

“Okay, Jake. We’ve got tonight, so let’s make it last.”

#gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #sam kiszka #jake gvf #danny wagner #sam gvf #danny gvf #josh gvf #gvf fic #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka blurb #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #gvf smut #gvf angst #gvf fluff #greta van fleet angst #greta van fleet fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet smut #builtbybrokenbells #melodic memories #josh kiszka

[boyfiechan]

hiiiii

is there any chance you could do angst to fluff friends to lovers with chan with prompt 2? if not that’s ok 💕💕💕

thank you ❤️

Hi! Thank you for requesting, I kind of got a little carried away with the angst, sorry haha but please let me know what you think of it! <3

Click here to check out my prompt list.

In some way, you already knew this would happen.

Still, it made you terrified. It wasn't even the situation on its own, opening your door to him standing on the other side in the middle of one of the coldest nights of the year, looking so heartbroken and so confused that you can barely contain the need to embrace his body and confess all of the truth that, unbeknownst to him, has been eating you alive for the past few months. It was the aftermath of him learning about the secret you had tried so hard to keep hidden away, the one thing that could change absolutely everything between you two.

You fucked up, and you fucked up really bad.

Chan has been your closest friend for God knows how long at this point. You've shared so much of life together, seeing each other grow, experiencing new things, and learning about the intricacies of adult life and how complicated it is to simply exist sometimes. He was the one you always turned to—the one to drop everything and give you his complete attention when you needed to rant, the one to discuss your completely bizarre theories with, the one to call at the end of the day and share your random thoughts. The routine on nights like this would always be the same: both of you tucked under a pile of blankets on the floor of your living room, watching some sort of movie that neither of you knew anything about but decided on because the name or something in the poster was just so funny you couldn't ignore it. But it wasn't one of those nights, and it had been days since the last time he had even heard from you.

He didn't know.

And you didn't know, either. How could you even tell him how seeing him there made things so much harder than they already had been these last few weeks? How could you tell him that everything had changed, that the friendship you both adored and counted on so much would be completely ruined because your stupid, stupid heart decided to pick up on even the smallest of things he did? And now, after years of being his rock, his confidant, you betrayed it all by falling in love with him? You couldn't. It wasn't fair to him, it wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to the years and the secrets you shared with each other. It just wasn't.

And seeing him at your door, after you quickly brushed off all of his questions after accidentally picking up a call from him out of habit, you wanted to hide again. This is exactly what you have been doing since you noticed how your feelings changed towards him, after feeling your heart pick up astronomically as he simply laughed at a stupid video on his phone while you had dinner a few weeks ago. You hid away, rejecting calls, barely ever opening messages, and not answering any of them until you figured out a way to fix all of this.

What have I done? he asked so quietly you could have sworn your heart was sounding louder than his voice. His eyes searched for yours, silently begging for an explanation as to why you just left him so easily, why he's being cut away from your life all of a sudden. Please, you can't do this. Don't do this. Tell me what's wrong.

I love you, you think.

I don't know, you breathe out. You hate lying, hated lying to him even more, but it was for the best. It was easier to break your own heart than to break his.

Please don't lie to me. Please. His steps are so light and he moves so slowly you almost forget where you are. You can see his lips trembling a little, and he rubs his shaky hands as the night seems to get even colder. Can I come in? It's hard to speak. It's hard to think, even, and all you manage to do is step back as he makes his way in, barely even looking around. He doesn't go farther from the door, turning to look at you with a sort of emotion that you can't quite read on his face. What changed?

I love you. Your voice is barely there. It's hard to get it out, hard to even hear it in your own voice. The door is closed, yet your living room seems even colder than outside—you can feel his perfume and his shampoo and your heart breaking all at once and it's too much. I'm so sorry.

It's hard to look at him. It's hard to do anything, really, and your ears don't even seem to process any sound as he takes the last few steps in between you two. Somewhere in between his entrance, he took his shoes off, and as his socks come into your field of vision you notice you've been staring at the ground before you all this time.

No. Here it comes. Here's the feeling you've been avoiding for so long. Tell me to stop.

What? you know you're not sounding anywhere near stable right now.

Tell me to stop, please, or I won't be able to. It's cold inside but you can feel how warm he is, you can feel him right there, his hand searching for yours, his nose brushing against your cheek. It's so easy to get lost in it, so easy to give it all up just focusing on how his skin feels against yours as he plants a kiss on your temples, then another on your cheek, then one more on the corner of your lips. You need him there, you need him even more than you need to breathe, so you don't stop him and he doesn't stop either, finding your mouth with his and giving you exactly what you've been dreaming about all this time. It's unreasonably better than you could ever imagine, his hand suddenly cradling the back of your head as you completely melt into him.

And there's where you know everything has changed, but it doesn't terrify you anymore. Not when you can feel why he didn't even mind the cold outside, knowing damn well he must have walked all the way from his dorm to your door demanding an explanation as to why you disappeared from his life. That's when you know it all, when you can almost hear his heart beating inside his chest as you hold his face closer to yours.

That's when you know the complete truth—he loves you too.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan thoughts #boyfriend!bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #prompt list requests

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Lay me down gently

Summary: When I’m ready to fall, will you let go of my hand?

Pairing: past Natasha Romanoff x female!reader, platonic Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: death, heavy angst, depression, wandavision didn’t happen

Word count: 1391

a/n: too dark? Too sad?

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @strangegardentaco @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

It’s been a year since the day Y/N lost everything. Most of the people have already done the work to start moving on, but she hasn’t been able to do that. How could she? The love of her life, the woman who she was supposed to marry and live the rest of her life with, died.

Natasha sacrificed herself to save the world.

And Y/N loves her for that, she also hates her for it. She wishes Natasha would’ve been selfish. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hopes Natasha would’ve let Clint died, but she’ll never say that out loud. She knows Clint has the same wish. He has been trying to earn her forgiveness since that day. Even though, she has told him multiple times he doesn’t have to, that she has already forgiven him.

It’s not entirely untrue. Y/N would just prefer not to be around him. However, it’s difficult when his whole family is trying to get her to join them for family events. She doesn’t want to do that. Her family is gone, she doesn’t want another one.

During the year, Y/N has been locked up in her bedroom at the Avenger’s compound, she can’t go back to their home. It’s not her home anymore, the house never was, Natasha is the one that made it her home. She has continued working as an Avenger, doing her best to help the blipped people to get back into their lives. Besides, the crime never stops.

Her teammates have tried their best to get her out of the room, but all of them except Wanda have given up.

Wanda is a saint. She lost her home too, yet she is trying to help Y/N instead of herself. Y/N thinks she’s trying to escape the feeling of sorrow, just like she is by sleeping and rotting in her bed. She appreciates her friend, but it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Y/N sits in the Quinjet as the team flies towards their destination. Only a small part of the team was chosen for the mission, Steve, Tony, Wanda, and Y/N. It’s supposed to be a quick, in and out mission. They never are.

Tapping on her shoulder brings Y/N back to the present. She turns to the side to see Wanda gently smiling at her. She looks tired of trying, but Y/N knows Wanda would never stop.

“How are you?” Her voice is soft, as if Y/N would shatter if it was any louder. She might.

“Good.” A blatant lie, but Wanda accepts it with a nod. Y/N’s voice is hoarse and it breaks at every other word, it has lost the gentleness of it. She hasn’t spoken a lot during the year. She hasn’t had any reason to talk.

“Good.” Wanda nods again. Her eyes shift through the Quinjet, she’s desperately looking for something. “They’re holding these things,” she starts carefully, “like support groups, for people who lost family during the blip.” She pauses, waiting for Y/N to say something, anything. “Would you like to go with me? I could really use someone familiar there with me.”

Y/N turns to look at Wanda. She has such a hopeful smile on her face, and Y/N hates disappointing her, but they both know what her answer is going to be. “No.”

“Okay.” Wanda whispers, still holding a smile on her face. She doesn’t want her to know how affected she is by the numerous failed attempts of trying to help her friend. “Just let me know if I can help you in any way.”

Nodding, Y/N falls back into her own world, where she stays for the rest of the flight.

They land the Quinjet on top of an abandoned building. It’s supposed to be a HYDRA base that is no longer in use.

Steve checks the perimeter, returning to the other three when nothing catches his eyes. “Tony and I will go inside, you two stay up here in case someone tries to surprise us.” Y/N and Wanda nod.

Tony opens one of the vents on the roof and drops down, Steve following right behind him. The Quinjet turns invisible to hide from prying eyes.

The wind blows softly as Y/N and Wanda stand in silence. Although Wanda keeps a vigilant eye out on the perimeter, she can’t help but keep glancing at Y/N. She seems like she isn’t even there anymore, not emotionally at least.

A feeling of something wrong grows in her body. “Y/N.” She swallows. “I’m worried.”

“About?” Y/N’s eyes don’t even glance at Wanda.

“That if I don’t do something, you’ll get hurt.”

“Sometimes it’s better to do nothing.”

Wanda doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t have time to voice this, as a contained explosion rattles the concrete beneath their feet.

“The building is not empty!” Steve’s voice comes through the comms right as all the vents to the roof open and a group of HYDRA soldiers rush out.

Y/N takes out her weapons and Wanda’s eyes turn red as they start fighting the soldiers. They can hear Steve and Tony struggling as they fight inside the building. The soldiers are ruthless, and they don’t seem to be lessening no matter how much they fight them.

A groan leaves Y/N’s mouth as she gets hit by something hard to the back of her head. She shoots whoever did it, but her legs stumble closer to the edge. She shakes her head to make the fuzziness go away.

Lifting her head up, her eyes widen. The only thing she sees is a bright blast coming right towards her.

It hits her in the chest, causing her to fly over the edge.

“Y/N!” Wanda runs to the edge, pushing the soldiers out of her way.

The wind is rushing past Y/N’s ears as she falls. She can only see the sky and Wanda, who gets smaller and smaller every second, from her view the red hair looks almost like Natasha’s. There’s a smile on her face.

Natasha.

She knows her girlfriend would want her to give up, but she couldn’t be mad at her for wanting to be with her again. Y/N knows she’d be more than happy to see her face again.

As the time to act gets shorter and shorter, Wanda’s eyes turn red, readying her magic to soften Y/N’s landing. Because unexpectancy of her magic, she peeks into her mind, not on purpose, but it’s still just as clear. That fraction of a second in her mind and the blatant smile on Y/N’s face makes her pause. The pause is long enough for her eyes to turn back to normal. Everything rushes around in her mind as she tries to make sense of the situation, as she tries to get her head back to the present and just lift her up. But a feeling deep inside her makes Wanda unable to act.

A feeling she knows neither of them can escape. Unless…

She watches as Y/N falls and she wants to rips her eyes away, but she can’t do that to her friend. She has to be there for her one last time.

Wanda finally looks away after the impact. Her ears are ringing and the team is shouting over the comms but she can’t hear them. She heaves as she drops to her knees, a burst of magic leaving her body as she screams, pushing any enemy left down the building. Her eyes are turning blurry from all the tears rushing out, she isn’t sure if she’s tasting blood or bile in her mouth. Her whole body shakes from the sobs.

She did the right thing.

Her nails dig into her palms as the scene of Y/N falling down replays in her mind over and over again. She’s pretty sure someone is trying to talk to her through the comms, trying to find out what just happened.

Surely, she did the right thing.

“Y/N is dead.” Wanda gasps out, her voice weak as the words tumble out. They seem so wrong, so unfair. She screws her eyes shut, dropping her forehead against the cold roof under her.

The guilt will eat her alive.

#marvel #mcu #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #mcu fanfiction #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #heavy angst #angst with a sad ending #tw sui ideation #tw depression #tw death #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #platonic wanda maximoff #past natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female!reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female!reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction

[basalamander-corner]

When you stop to actually think about it, the situation the octolings go through in pretty horrifying. Not just living in a home where the sky could collapse on them at any moment, but the futility of everything they're doing.

We learn in Splatoon 3 that some octolings clans (like Shiver's) lived above ground. They never went down into the Octo Domes, and became well-established to the point of being almost ruler-like? I don't think it's made clear if the great clans that Deep Cut hail from are seen as lords over the Splatlands or what, but they're clearly influential and powerful. So the octolings... really didn't need to spend all that time suffering.

Every one of them could have waltzed onto the surface and easily integrated into inkling society, and no one would bat an eye because as we all know: inklings are stupid as shit! They didn't care when Marina ended up there! So they wouldn't care about others.

So what was stopping them?

Could it be that the higher ups of the Octarian army, those closest to Octavio, were so blinded by their loss, by their sense of pride and their own selfishness, they felt the need to prove they were better than the inklings? To prove they didn't need their "blessed surface", and that they could survive just fine on their own? Their loss was humiliating, and for their superior weapons to lose to such a weak enemy, clearly they need to show their strength to persevere through even the most horrifying of situations.

Clouded by their arrogance, the Octarian army could only imagine that the inklings were keeping the zapfish (and other energy sources) away from them in order to punish them for daring to fight in the Great Turf War in the first place. They were so caught up in this loss they didn't realize inklings had forgotten all about the war within two generations! That sure, the inklings might have learned about it in school (as we hear from Pearl), but they don't know much else other than the basic facts.

And so, the younger generation of octolings suffered the most.

While the generation who lived through the war were trying to return to their glory days, desperate to show off their power and abilities, the newer generation of octolings are forced into fighting for a war they never wanted from a young age. We don't know if all octoling training starts at age 6, but Marina is certainly a case of it. Regardless of when they started fighting, they are fed propaganda and lies from birth.

Inklings are dangerous. Inklings are evil. Inklings will destroy you if they see you. You must avoid them. They hate you because you are an Octarian. That is why you must train.

And they have no choice but to believe it, because they've never seen anything to the contrary. They live in these crumbling domes, they know the inklings live on the surface with unlimited power, so of course they have to believe what their higher ups are saying, and what their own eyes are telling them. The new generation of octolings embody the teachings of their predecessors. As much as it might hurt to fight, as much as they are run ragged and used and abused, it's all for the best. It's for their protection. For their safety. If they step back, if they refuse service, then they're letting everyone down. The Octo Domes would lose power forever. How can you leave your own people to die? Are you selfish? Do you think the innocent must suffer? No. You'll be a good little soldier, and you'll follow orders.

But in the end—as the octolings find their way to the surface after Octavio is defeated and the Zapfish is recovered for the first time—they find out that everything they had done was for nothing. They lived through horrible conditions, believing that inklings were punishing them, only to come to the surface and find that none of it was true.

Are any of them resentful? Do some think of their time underground fondly (like Marina is implied to)? Do they see it for what it was: a futile attempt at holding onto some semblance of dignity after their humiliating defeat to an enemy who couldn't even wake up on time?

Or are they left deeply scarred by it all? Hurt that the older generation—the ones who were supposed to know best for them—would turn their backs on them and let them suffer for a so-called "greater good" that didn't even exist!

Some ramblings about how my own OCs fit into these thoughts are down below. Feel free to skip if you don't want to read something less canon!

Sashi was long trained into being the perfect soldier. He was bio-engineered for it, spliced together using the genes of other soldiers that came before him. He is mistreated by those above him... and it's deserved, isn't it? After all, he isn't an actual octoling. He was created, he wasn't born naturally. So he isn't really sentient, is he? He's just a thing. A useful tool for what the Octarian army wants to accomplish.

And so as he's mistreated, he starts to embody that too. It takes finally escaping to the surface for him to realize and come to terms with the fact that what happened to him wasn't deserved. And I think that, while he isn't resentful, he is angry at Octavio. Sashi looked up to him when he was younger: the brightly shining king who clearly wanted what was best for his people. But when Sashi learns that every was for nothing, well... he certainly won't be happy about it.

Except... we find out that Octavio (and some of the other higher ups) would have never dreamed about treating Sashi the way he was, or any other experiments for that matter.

Yes, Octavio was blinded by his own pride and dignity, but he genuinely wished the best. And to him, creating an army of super-soldiers that could fight to protect them in battle was the best decision to make. So then why? If Octavio never ordered the cruel treatment, why did it happen?

Let's go back to the propaganda and lies: many octolings would believe it. They would grow up hearing about the glory days, the stories of war... and they want a piece of that pie. They want to be a celebrated war hero, they want to rush into battle and defeat the inklings that keep them oppressed in the dark for so long. And with that desire to fight comes a penchant for cruelty. So they treat the experiments—and other lesser soldiers—poorly. Because their job as soldiers is to fight fight fight and keep fighting, so it won't hurt to push them far beyond the limits of what is humanly possible, right?

And Octavio is blind to all of this. He is blind, and it seems like he doesn't care.

So they are left to suffer in silence.

@sharliexth here's a more concise version of my thoughts I shared with you the other day lol

#splatoon #basalamander.txt #splatoon 3 #ramblings #dj octavio #octo expansion #octoling #octarian #a lot of this is my own musings #not necessarily canon #these are just my thoughts #about how the octolings might view their plight #splatoon 2